


Captain of the Guard

by WeSaveWhoWeCanSaveToday



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Bellarke, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, My First AO3 Post, Princess Clarke, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2625674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeSaveWhoWeCanSaveToday/pseuds/WeSaveWhoWeCanSaveToday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 100 AU set in a fictional land named Arkearth. Bellamy is appointed as Captain of the Guard, and he and Princess Clarke get off to a less-than-harmonious start. However, as Clarke realises he's the only one who will teach her how to fight, the pair soon learn to like and trust one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grand Entrances

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first bit of fanfiction I've written since I was 12 (I'm now 18). So please go easy on me; that doesn't mean, however, that I don't want you to criticise it! I do! I want all the criticism! I want to make it as well written and perfect as possible so you guys have something good to read, so please tell me what I can improve for you.  
> I've got quite a big storyline in mind, as well as a sequel planned, so if I can keep it up there's that to look forward to. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!  
> Beth xx

“Clarke!”

The source of the voice was a small, black-haired lady standing in the door to the medical wing. She was wearing a fine violet gown, accompanied by a string of diamonds on her throat, and a disbelieving stare as she addressed a blonde girl.

The girl was Clarke Griffin, crown princess and heir to the throne of Arkearth. Princess Clarke Griffin happened, at this point in time, to be kneeling on the floor of the medical wing, bandaging the ankle of a soldier.

“Clarke, you’re late! Your mother is going to be furious if you miss this ceremony.” The lady said, as she advanced on Clarke, dodging around empty beds and medics who were busy mixing up various poultices and potions.

Clarke sighed as she stood up, brushing the dust off of the front of her white uniform. The uniform was borrowed – she should be wearing an extravagant dress, corset and all, but one couldn’t practice healing in such restrictive and delicate clothing. She smiled at the soldier, patting his now-bandaged leg.

“There, Carter, it should heal now. Just stay off it for a couple of days – and no more climbing on the roof of the barracks, okay?” she said good-naturedly, gesturing for him to leave as he thanked her.

She turned to the lady, who was staring at her in further disbelief. Clarke just rolled her eyes and went over to a sink at the edge of the room, to wash her hands and untie her wavy blonde hair.

“You’re not even dressed properly. Your mother is going to kill both of us.”

“Relax, Callie, I can dress quickly. Besides, it’s not like I _need_ to be present…” she said, turning away as she headed to the door, quickly followed by Callie.

“You’re the _princess_ , Clarke. And this isn’t just some boring state dinner – this is actually important. And it’s important that you’re there! You’re supposed to represent your kingdom; it won’t look good if the _crown princess_ isn’t there-“ she would have continued, but Clarke spoke before she had a chance to.

“I get it, Callie. But working in the medical wing is important to me, too – plus it’s good for the kingdom; seeing their future ruler caring for other people might raise some morale.” Clarke reasoned as they reached her chambers. She entered them to find her hand-maidens waiting to dress her.

“Don’t bother with bathing her– there’s not enough time. Just brush her hair and dress her.” Callie instructed them, perching neatly on one of the couches in the centre of the room, leaving the princess and her handmaidens to go off into one of the other rooms to dress.

Clarke reappeared a few minutes later. Her white medic uniform had been traded for a blue gown; swirls of golden embroidery unfurled across the bodice, the colour matching her hair which fell around her shoulders. The velvet sleeves ended at the elbow, with cuffs of pale blue chiffon tickling her forearms as she moved.

The skirts were wide, with an overlay of almost translucent blue material, and the same golden patterns spread across it, only in a much paler shade of gold, so much so that Clarke wondered if she was only imagining them as she looked down at herself.

The dress was beautiful, almost as beautiful as the girl wearing it, yet Clarke felt as if she was trapped beneath the weight of it.

“…There. Now you look like Crown Princess of Arkearth.” Callie said, smiling as she stood up. Clarke returned her smile, and the pair of them left Clarke’s chambers at a brisk walk.

“You’ll have to enter from the back of the main hall – I should think the ceremony’s already begun by now.” Callie explained, a tone of annoyance in her voice, as they strode through the practically empty halls – almost everyone of import would be in the main hall already.

Clarke didn’t say anything, just kept her gaze straight ahead as they marched on.

One more corner and they’d reached the back entrance to the main hall – a concealed door which was positioned behind the dais. Callie smiled briefly at Clarke, wishing her luck as the younger girl took a deep breath and walked into the main hall.

Mercifully the ceremony hadn’t begun yet, Clarke realised as she walked into the hall. A wall of noise hit her when she pushed open the wooden door; the masses of people all chatting excitedly. She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful also for the stage which had been erected for the dais – it hid her late entrance from the crowds.

Running her hands down her bodice in an effort to calm her heartbeat, she discreetly rounded the dais and walked quickly over to her throne, situated next to her mother’s.

Queen Abigail Griffin looked as regal as ever, poised elegantly in her tall wooden throne. She cast a glance at her daughter as Clarke slid into the smaller, but just as grand, throne next door.

“You’re late, Clarke.” She said in a hushed tone, turning her attention back to the hall.

“I was busy in the medical wing, mother. I’m sorry.” Clarke replied in a similar tone, smiling to some of the castle staff she recognised.

“You do realise how important today is?”

Clarke nodded, folding her hands in her lap. She knew.

About a month previous, her father, King Jake Griffin, had ridden to the neighbouring kingdom, known as The Ground, in order to settle a discrepancy in the peace treaty between the two kingdoms.

A group of soldiers had unlawfully kidnapped and murdered some soldiers from The Ground – one of the Ground soldiers had been their prince, Tristan. Enraged, the leader of The Ground, a woman enigmatically known as “The Commander”, had demanded that Arkearth hand over the soldiers and their princess as penance.

Since the offending soldiers had already been put to death by the King and the Captain of the Guard, Thelonius Jaha, the Captain offered himself to the Grounders. They accepted, but would not keep to peace if he was not joined by Clarke.

King Jake refused to allow Clarke to be sent over to The Ground to endure whatever punishment lay waiting for her, and being the only heir to the throne, for her to leave would mean the end to the royal line. So, despite protests from both Clarke and Abigail, Jake and Thelonius set off for The Ground.

As overwhelmingly heart-breaking as the whole ordeal had been for everyone, the heightened tensions between both kingdoms meant that the time for strength and unity was needed more than ever. Abigail had not given herself time to grieve – only to move on with ruling the kingdom. And her first order of business had been to fill the role of Captain of the Guard.

Despite the castle employing many competent, skilled guards, none stood out to Abigail as being Captain material. The most senior of the guard had stepped forward during the last month, but he was due to retire soon, and so was unsuitable for the permanent position.

But Marcus Kane, a close friend and advisor to the Queen, had found the answer in one of the regions in the Kingdom’s land. A wealthy lord of a coastal region had a guard in his manor who was as adept at organisation and tactics and as skilled in swordplay as the lord’s current lead guard, and believed it to be a waste for such skill and talent to go unused.

Thus, it was arranged for this guard to assume to the position of Captain of the Guard at the castle.

At first Abigail was unsure – he was young, and untested as a leader, but through persuasion from Marcus and the wealthy lord, she soon changed her mind. The time constraints asked for a quick decision too, and since no alternative was offered, the Queen had no choice but to appoint the young man as Captain.

A hush settled over the hall as an attendant approached the dais, delivering a message to the Queen. Abigail nodded, and stood, followed by Clarke. The attendant dashed back to the main entrance to the hall, and whispered to the herald who was standing poised, ready to speak.

“For her Royal Majesty’s approval, and to speak the oath, may I present, Bellamy Blake, Captain of the Royal Guard!” the herald’s voice rung out through the hall, sharp and clear. He bowed deeply, sweeping one arm out as the doors opened.

Applause greeted the man who strode powerfully through the doors. His charcoal hair was slicked back from his tanned face, and the serious look which adorned it made Clarke’s breath catch. His eyes were focused on her mother, and the pace and ferocity of his gait as he walked towards her made Clarke think he might be about to draw his sword and run her through.

But as he approached the dais, he dropped to one knee, his green cape falling over his shoulder as he bowed his head.

“Your Majesty.” He said by way of greeting, and a shiver went down Clarke’s spine at the depth of his voice. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, looking at her mother.

“Bellamy Blake. Do you swear to protect and defend Arkearth from any and all who seek to do her harm?” The power and gravity in Abigail’s voice held everyone in the room rooted to the spot.

“I do.”

“And do you swear to uphold your duties and responsibilities as Captain to the best of your abilities, and with the utmost commitment and care?”

“I do.” There was no hint of fear or trepidation in Bellamy’s voice as he spoke. Aside from the words being spoken by the Queen and the Captain, the room was silent.

“Then by the power vested in me, as Queen of Arkearth, I hereby instate Bellamy Blake as Captain of the Royal Guard. You may rise, Captain.” Abigail finished, her mask of solemnity breaking as she smiled down at the man. He stood, allowing himself a small smile in return, as he bowed his head.

He turned to the people, who were now applauding, and gave a small bow, before turning to the senior most guard who approached him. Clarke watched as they greeted one another, dipping heads and shaking hands. The guard lead Bellamy off towards the barracks, and Clarke’s eyes didn’t leave the young Captain’s back until he was fully out of the room.

“He’s young.” She said, turning finally to her mother. The people were leaving the hall now, returning to their duties; the air was full of chatter and movement, allowing Clarke a few moments to speak with her mother.

“I’ve been assured that he’s competent.” Her mother said, glancing over at Marcus. “I have a favour to ask of you – a request. Bellamy’s sister Octavia will be joining us at court, now that her brother is Captain. I need you to spend a few days helping her settle in.” Clarke opened her mother to protest, but was silenced with a wave of her mother’s hand. “Clarke, it’s important.”

The two stared at one another for a moment, before Clarke conceded with an eye roll, and turned to leave the hall.

“Make her feel welcome!” Abigail’s words drifted after Clarke as she left the hall.

 _Babysitting. She’s making me babysit,_ was all Clarke could think as she headed back to her rooms, eager to take off the unnecessarily extravagant dress. For ceremonies, the excessive attire was appropriate, but walking back to her rooms afterwards, she just felt ridiculous.


	2. Roses

It had been arranged for Octavia to take dinner with Clarke in her private chambers. So, that evening, dressed in a dress slightly less decadent than earlier but just as uncomfortable, Clarke sat across from Octavia Blake, sister of the Captain of the Guard.

It had to be said, Octavia was beautiful. Her sharp features were similar to her brother’s, though her light eyes lacked the soberness that Clarke saw in his dark ones.

“So… how are you finding Pheonix?” Clarke asked, after an extended period of silence that was almost as uncomfortable as her dress. Phoenix Castle was Clarke’s home, which took its name from the surrounding city, Phoenix.

Octavia smiled broadly, appearing grateful for the break in the silence.

“Oh, it’s beautiful. Bellamy’s been talking about bringing me here for years, but he’s always so busy with guard duty.” She said, the words bubbling out of her like a stream. There was a hint of regret in her tone, and Clarke felt kind of sorry for her.

Her mother had explained the circumstances of Octavia and Bellamy’s upbringing. Their mother had been a maid in the Lord Walden’s household, and their father had been a soldier. He’d died in a battle with soldiers from The Ground, in the days before the peace treaty, and their mother had been so stricken with grief that she drank herself to death, leaving a seventeen-year-old Bellamy to raise ten-year-old Octavia like his own child.

Clarke couldn’t imagine having that responsibility at such a young age. Sure, one day Clarke would have entire kingdom to look after, but she had years and years to grow up and experience life before that happened.

“You must be proud of him.” She said thoughtfully, playing around with the peas on her plate. Octavia smiled again, and nodded.

“It’s tough not having him around a lot, but he’s achieved so much… it’s difficult not to be proud of him.” She agreed, but there was something in her tone that made Clarke think Octavia wasn’t telling the complete truth.

But she didn’t want to pry any further, so the pair spent the rest of the meal in almost silence, occasionally swapping small talk, but nothing very meaningful.

When they’d finished, and the servants had cleared the table, Clarke smiled at Octavia.

“I was thinking we could go on a tour of the castle and grounds.” She suggested, and her smile grew at the life that sprung into Octavia’s face.

“Do you have a big garden? I love gardens. Especially with big areas of flowers – do you have that here?” she asked excitedly, standing from the table. Clarke grinned at her enthusiasm, and glanced at a clock on a cabinet at the edge of the room as she stood as well.

“Yes, of course. It should stay light out for a while, we can go and look now, if you’d like.”

Octavia nodded vigorously. Her radiant smile was infectious; Clarke couldn’t keep a smile off her face as she lead Octavia out of the room towards the gardens.

The two guards stationed outside the princess’s room followed behind the girls as they walked briskly through the castle halls. Octavia practically floated above the ground she seemed so excited to get outside; Clarke didn’t quite understand it, so she didn’t completely share the girl’s enthusiasm, but the energy Octavia exerted was too contagious for Clarke to ignore it completely.

When they finally reached the exit to the gardens, Clarke watched as Octavia stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. It was almost as if Octavia had never been outside before, the way she embraced the open air, her head turned towards the sun.

Turning her attention from Octavia to the expanse of green that stretched away from the castle, as far as the eye could see, Clarke supposed it was quite a sight to behold.

She’d grown up running around the rose garden that grew at the edge of the lush green lawn, and climbing the trees in the glade that lined the gardens – whenever she could sneak away from her guards.

“Where would you like to go first?” Clarke asked.

Her voice brought Octavia back down to earth, and she blinked as she surveyed the land she saw before her. Her gaze settled on the rose garden, and another one of those smiles crept onto her face.

***

The girls spent the best part of an hour wandering around the rose garden. Octavia stopped every few steps to inspect the rosebushes, marvelling at each of the colours and textures of the petals. She bent to smell them and, with the help of Clarke’s guards, collected a small bouquet of her favourite ones to put in her chambers.

Clarke didn’t join in; instead, she used the opportunity to test herself on what she could remember about each of the flowers Octavia stopped at. English and Latin names, when they’re in season, medical and nutritional value; she surprised herself at how much she could remember.

Before they knew it, they’d reached the edge of the garden. Octavia looked around for an idea of where to go next.

She looked over at a big glass extension that stuck out of the castle. Through the glass she could see lots and lots of green – trees, and tall leafy plants.

“What’s that?” she asked, turning to Clarke for an explanation.

“It’s a hotbox – it’s like a greenhouse, an aviary and a butterfly sanctuary all in one. My mother used to love studying science before she became queen; my dad had it built for her, so she could study tropical species without having to travel far from home.” Clarke’s tone was nostalgic as she told the story, and laced with sadness as she talked about her father.

“No. Way.” Octavia’s response made Clarke smile again. “Can we go in there?”

Clarke nodded, and Octavia practically bounced over to the huge glass greenhouse, with Clarke and her guards following behind, trying to keep up.

They stepped through the glass doors; the heat enveloped them immediately, and Clarke was grateful that she had chosen a light dress with short sleeves for dinner. In order to keep the plants and animals comfortable, the room had pipes of boiling water running beneath the floor and between the panes of glass, keeping the room at a constant, almost unbearably warm temperature.

Octavia didn’t seem to notice the heat as she dashed over to the first bed of plants. She absent-mindedly handed her bouquet of roses off to one of Clarke’s guards, who accepted them, even if he did look alarmed as he took them.

“Careful!” Clarke snapped, grabbing Octavia’s wrist as she reached out her hand to touch the leaf of a dark green plant. “Some of these plants are poisonous. It’s better to look, not touch with these ones.” She warned, pointing to a bronze placard that stood in the dirt in front of the plant.

There were several placards throughout the room, in front of most of the plants, each listing details about the plant behind it.

“Most of what my mother learned about the plants is on those placards; read them before you touch anything.” Clarke said, relaxing as Octavia bent to read what was etched into the bronze.

Or, at least, she began to, before a brightly colour butterfly perched delicately on the top of the placard.

Octavia laughed, reaching out a finger to touch the butterfly’s wing. It moved before she could brush it, and as it dived into the air she stood up, her gaze following it as it fluttered away to a different part of the greenhouse.

Clarke followed Octavia as Octavia followed the butterfly, weaving between flowerbeds. Her face was a picture of awe as she watched the butterfly land on the leaf of a tropical shrub. She knelt down to see it more closely.

“It’s so beautiful… I’ve never seen anything like it!” she said, her voice soft, but full of wonder.

Before Clarke had a chance to tell her what kind of butterfly it was, their party was joined by a fifth member.

The boy crouched next to Octavia without her noticing. His hair was long and straight, and he had a boyish smile on his face as he leant into her shoulder.

“It’s called ‘Morpho Anaxibia’, from South America.” His voice startled Octavia, and as she jumped up the butterfly flew away again.

Clarke rolled her eyes as Octavia turned to the boy – she reacted in the same way pretty much every court lady did. One look at his handsome face and smile left her looking like she was ready to melt.

“That’s… so interesting!” Octavia said, smiling – only this was a different smile to the excited ones she’d been giving Clarke.

“I can tell you about the other butterflies too, if you’d like.”

Octavia nodded, and looked back at Clarke with a grin as the boy offered her his arm. Clarke gave a small smile in return, her mouth tight and eyebrows raised. She didn’t quite have the heart to pull the girl away from the boy; she could explain his reputation later on.

“I’m Octavia Blake, nice to make your acquaintance.” Octavia said, as she linked her arm through the boy’s. Clarke and her guards trailed behind them as the boy lead Octavia through the greenhouse, back towards the castle.

“Finn Collins. I’m the game-keeper.” Finn returned, and Clarke cleared her throat. With a glance back, Finn grinned. “Well, game-keeper’s _apprentice_.”

“I see… so do you look after the butterflies?” Octavia asked, winding a finger through a lock of her hair as they walked. Clarke groaned internally; it was painful to watch the pair of them.

“Some days. The birds too – look.” He stopped and pointed to the rafters of the house – rafters where birds of every shape and size and colour sat and sang. They chattered to one another, occasionally swooping through the air to find another perch.

Octavia laughed, looking up at the ceiling, that same gleeful wonder in her eyes. Finn looked back down at her, and smiled.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” he said, and she brought her gaze down to his with a nod. They looked at each other for a few seconds, before Octavia turned back and tugged on his arm.

“So what about these butterflies?”

Clarke tuned out as they walked around the flowerbeds. She didn’t feel like she needed (or wanted) to be listening to Finn and Octavia flirt with each other, so instead she looked around at the plants in the house, cataloguing which of them had placards and which did not. She’d always wanted to continue her mother’s research, but finding a tutor was hard, and now her mother was busy running the kingdom, she couldn’t spare the time to work with her daughter.

That was life now, though – Abigail was too busy to spare time for Clarke. They rarely saw each other outside of council meetings and royal ceremonies. Occasionally they dined together, but most often Clarke dined alone, or with members of the court, since her mother worked late into the night and wouldn’t eat until she’d finished her work for the day.

 _Council meetings,_ Clarke thought, and blinked. She looked at her guards in alarm, and they stiffened, hands going to swords.

“I’m late.” She said, looking at Octavia and Finn who’d stopped walking. “I’m so sorry – there’s a council meeting I should have attended-“ she glanced at her wristwatch, “ten minutes ago.” She looked apologetically at Octavia. “Do you mind?”

Octavia glanced at Finn, and shook her head, a playful smile sneaking onto her face

“No, of course I don’t mind. You attend to your royal business – I’ll be fine here. I have Finn to look after me if things go awry, right?” she turned her doe eyes on Finn, who grinning wolfishly back at her.

“Of course.” He said, in a tone of voice that made Clarke want to throw up on the spot. Instead, she just smiled awkwardly, and turned to her guard holding the flowers.

“Can you stay with them? I’ll only need one guard to walk to the council chamber.” She said, and the roses guard nodded.

After exchanging goodbyes, Clarke left Octavia, Finn and the roses in the greenhouse, moving as quickly as was ladylike as she made her way to the council chamber, cursing herself.

This was the first meeting that she’d have with Bellamy Blake, and she was late. First it was to his appointment ceremony, now to his first meeting – his impression of her was not going to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying really hard with the characterisation but I don't think I'm there yet. I'll have to rewatch season 1 so I can get more accurate! (That's my excuse for rewatching season 1, really).
> 
> Thank you so much for the positive response to chapter one, you guys are really nice! You're giving me the confidence to keep going, so thank you to everyone who's reading it, and an extra big thank you to everyone leaving kudos, comments and bookmarks! You're the best!  
> Beth xx  
> P.s. I promise that Bellamy and Clarke will actually meet in the next chapter. They will. :)  
> EDIT: I've been reading the 100 so I've edited some of the placenames so they sound a bit less silly and are more accurate to the series! :) (Arkearth will stay the same though, because I actually quite like it :P)


	3. Rising Tensions

Clarke stepped into the council chamber, all too aware of the bubble of silence that entered with her. Heads turned as the talk stopped, and Clarke dipped her head in apology as she hurried over to the empty seat next to her mother’s. The talk resumed almost instantly, much to Clarke’s relief, but she still retained the attention of two attendees.

Her mother’s annoyance couldn’t be ignored; the queen wasn’t looking at her daughter, she was listening to an elderly councilwoman, but Clarke could feel the annoyance rolling off her mother in waves. There would be words about her tardiness later on.

The second person, Clarke noted with a degree of surprise and a hint of complete humiliation, was the new Captain, Bellamy.  She hadn’t failed to notice the look of irritation on his sullen face as she’d entered the meeting late; she was thankful that he hadn’t seen her late arrival to his welcome ceremony that morning, or else the irritation might have turned to hatred.

The councilwoman was from the agriculture district, and Clarke started to listen to her report on how the crops were doing. There seemed to be nothing of import in her report; the same as last week’s, and the week before’s, and Clarke found her mind wandering as she stared at the councilwoman.

It had drifted back to Octavia and Finn.  Clarke hoped that Finn wouldn’t behave the same with Octavia as he had with her, and she hoped that the younger girl would keep her wits about her.

Octavia seemed very sweet, if fairly naïve. _I just hope she doesn’t go crazy while she’s here,_ Clarke thought, picturing Octavia as if she was a wisp of pressurised gas. Spending sixteen years in Walden with nothing to do would be bound to make someone feel trapped, and being suddenly released into the exciting, open city of Phoenix – Clarke frowned. She just knew that if Octavia got into trouble, Clarke would get it in the neck from her mother.

She glanced across at Bellamy. Surely he should get the blame for Octavia going astray – he was her guardian, after all. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Clarke felt guilty. He’d already gotten this far with that huge responsibility on his shoulders; she could handle a few misdemeanours.

Halfway through this thought, Bellamy turned his head, catching Clarke unintentionally staring at him. Clarke blushed and turned her attention back to the councilwoman, and her thoughts back to what she was saying, trying to ignore the blood rushing into her cheeks. Trying to ignore the fact that she could feel Bellamy’s gaze lingering on her face. Trying to ignore the sudden awareness that her hair was tangled from rushing through the castle, and the mud on her skirts from the garden (despite the fact that her skirts were hidden beneath the table).

Finally the councilwoman finished, and everyone’s attention turned to the next speaker, General Miller. Clarke felt the atmosphere in the room slightly, as everyone sat up a little bit straighter, their focus becoming slightly more concentrated. General Miller looked almost uncomfortable as he cleared his throat, arranging his papers on the table as he prepared himself.

“I’d like to make a request for extra soldiers on the Western border, your majesty.” He said, looking at Abigail squarely. She glanced at Kane, who’s eyebrows had furrowed together. Clarke and Bellamy, in an odd moment of synergy, shared a confused glance before turning back to concentrate on Miller.

“Has the situation changed on the border?” Kane asked, leaning forward in his chair as he rested his arm on the table. Miller nodded fractionally.

“Nothing major sir, just – we’ve noticed small changes in their patrol patterns.”

The council relaxed visibly, some sighing with relief, some smiling. A couple of people tittered, making Miller look more uncomfortable.

“You need extra soldiers because they’ve changed their _patrolling_ patterns?” Kane asked with a smirk on his face. Clarke looked at him with an expression of something akin to loathing, and turned her gaze to Bellamy, expecting him to have the same expression of smugness on his face. Instead, he was looking at the table, a pensive look on his face. Clarke frowned as she turned back to Miller.

“What about the patrols has changed, General?” Clarke asked, her voice breaking through the low level of chatter that had erupted into the council room. Everyone became silent as they regarded Miller again, barely concealed smirks on their faces.

“Some of the guards have noticed that the patrols are more frequent, but with fewer guards.” He explained, addressing Kane, then Abigail.

“So? That doesn’t mean anything.” Another council member said, shaking his head.

“It means they’re overcompensating.” Bellamy said, his voice as low and serious as Clarke remembered from the ceremony. Miller nodded in agreement, smiling gratefully at the Captain.

“Exactly. We think they’re pulling soldiers away from the border-“

“Why do we need more soldiers there then? Surely that’s a good thing!” the same council member spoke up, accompanied by a couple of other mumbles of agreement.

“Not necessarily – why the sudden change? We’ve been expecting movement from the Grounders since the King and Thelonius left to settle the treaty –“

“They accepted our offer of peace, they wouldn’t attack us. Not after they took our _King_.” The same council member retorted again, and this time, it was the Queen who spoke against him.

“As far as we know, they’ve accepted our offer of peace. And the only word we have is their’s; we don’t know that we can trust it yet. General Miller is right to be cautious. What do you think The Ground is doing with the soldiers?” she asked Miller.

“Well, we can’t be sure, of course, but we think that they may be undergoing some sort of training regime, perhaps? Either that, or redeployment to other areas, which could suggest that they’re struggling with other kingdoms.”

Abigail nodded once to Miller, and then to Kane.

“We’ll send word out to other kingdoms to see if we can find any information on their status with The Ground. In the meantime, Miller, I’ll grant you your extra soldiers. Kane, please arrange to meet with Miller to discuss how many and from where the extra soldiers are to be withdrawn.” She said with finality, as Kane nodded and noted his orders on a bit of paper.

Three council members later (two more generals and the education minister), it was Bellamy Blake’s turn to speak.

“I’d like to start by saying thank you for the welcome to Phoenix, and that I look forward to working with you all. I will take my job as Captain very seriously, and should you have any concerns about your personal safety or that of the castle, do not hesitate to contact me.” He nodded to the council as he spoke, his voice confident.

“Since my arrival I’ve inspected the castle and highlighted a few areas which I think need the most improvement,” he began with a cautious look at the Queen, whose face betrayed nothing. Bellamy swallowed before he continued. “I’d like to hold some testing procedures over the next two weeks; intense training and individual sparring, to determine the overall skill level of the guard, as well as to get to know each member.

“I’m also going to increase the guard duty on the walls. I know that we’re in peace time, but I think we’ve got room for a few more guards, and I think we’d all enjoy knowing that we’re a little bit safer.

“Finally, I’ll be using some of the budget to renovate your current training area. There are a few training techniques that are being used in Walden and Arcadia, as well as some other areas that aren’t being used here, and I think the guard will greatly benefit from a new regime.” Bellamy finished, looking at Abigail with the same confidence and solemnity he’d had when speaking his oath earlier that morning. Clarke glanced from him to her mother, who was looking back at him stoically.

Queen Abigail looked at Kane, who raised his eyebrows and sat back in his chair, and smiled, before looking back at Bellamy with something like pride in her eyes.  She nodded, and Bellamy relaxed slightly, allowing himself a small smile in return.

“Of course you may hold your testing procedure, so long as it does not interfere with the other duties of the guards, and you may use your budget as you wish.” She said, sitting back in her own chair. “I have to say Bellamy Blake, I’m impressed. I’ll be expecting good things from you.”

It had to be said that Clarke felt the same as her mother. He’d been in Phoenix for a day, and already his attention to detail and ideas for the castle were impressive. She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but whatever it was, she was not expecting Bellamy Blake.

“If nobody has anything else they wish to discuss, I bring this council to a close. Everyone may leave except Kane, Clarke and Bellamy.” Queen Abigail stood, followed by everyone else, as the other council members bowed and said their goodbyes for the evening.

After a couple of minutes of chatter and movement as the council left the room, soon the four of them were left in a cloud of silence and awkwardness. Kane stood in his usual, straight-backed manner next to the Queen, who was looking at her daughter. Bellamy stood next to the princess, standing in a similar position to Kane.

“Well?” Abigail asked, raising her eyebrows as she addressed her daughter.

“I’m sorry, mother. I was showing Octavia the hothouse and got carried away.” Clarke apologised, once again conscious of her hair and skirts. Kane smirked slightly as he glanced at Abigail, and Clarke felt Bellamy look at her.

“A princess should not let herself get “carried away” with anything.” Her mother scolded, eyebrows furrowing. Clarke pursed her lips as she looked straight back.

“Yes mother, I know, ‘ _A princess should not’._ I’m sorry. Again.”

“I’ll put today down to unusual circumstances. Don’t be late again, whether it’s a special occasion or just a regular meeting. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse us, Kane, you wanted a word?”

Clarke curtseyed to her mother and Kane, before turning to look apologetically at Bellamy as she led the way out of the council chamber.

“Actually, the two of you need to stay for this.”

Clarke turned on her heel with a look of confusion, which was mirrored by her mother.

“Marcus?” Abigail glanced from Clarke and Bellamy back to Marcus, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Abby, Clarke’s of an age now where she should be studying things other than geography and healing.” Kane replied, glancing at the princess, who looked slightly insulted now, as well as confused. She already studied more than geography and healing.

“Marcus, what – I don’t understand.”

“She should be learning how to fight.” He said, and Abigail stepped back. “Abby, listen –“

“No, Marcus, absolutely not. Are you crazy? She’s still a child – she’s not going to be in a position where she needs to fight anyway-“

“We don’t know that yet Abby, and besides, if she were a boy she would have learnt this-“

“Regardless of her gender, she’s still seventeen, and that’s still too young to start learning swordplay! Marcus I can’t believe-“

“With all due respect, your majesty, I agree with the Chancellor.” Bellamy stepped forward, and everyone’s heads whipped to him, Clarke’s included. She was taking a couple of minutes to process what was being said, and how she felt about it.

She’d never really thought about learning how to use a sword. Her main discipline was healing; she wanted to heal wounds, not inflict them. But Marcus’ argument was right, in a way – if she’d been born a prince, she would be learning how to use a sword – she’d be learning how to lead an army. And if she was going to be Queen one day, she would have to lead an army.

“With due respect to you, Bellamy, you’ve been here for one day, and you don’t know my daughter.”

“But I do.” Clarke stepped forward to stand beside Bellamy.

“Mom, they’re right. I should learn how to fight – soldiers and guards enrol when they’re eighteen, and-“

“And you’re seventeen, not eighteen.”

“But I’m eighteen in a month, mom. And when I’m queen, I might have to lead an army. And if that ever happens, I want to be ready, I want to be experienced – I don’t want to just hide in a castle and let other people fight my battles for me.”

Kane and Bellamy exchanged small smiles, while Abigail looked absolutely scandalised. She looked from Clarke to Kane, and then she puffed out her chest and set her face in a stoic mask.

“This discussion is over, for now. The answer is no.” Kane and Clarke opened their mouths to argue, but the Queen held up a hand. “I am the Queen, and I am your mother, and when I say no, it means no. Do you understand?”

Kane nodded, and Clarke opened her mouth to protest.

“Do you understand, Clarke Griffin?” her mother said, her voice almost a shout, if it weren’t so calm and cold. Clarke scowled, and nodded.

“Good. I don’t want to hear about this again for at least another month. You’re dismissed.” She turned her back on Bellamy and Clarke, inviting Kane to join her.

Clarke didn’t spare another glance for her mother as she strode from the room, allowing the council doors to slam shut behind her. Before she could make it three paces, she heard the doors open again, and the sound of footsteps as Bellamy jogged to join her.

“We haven’t been formally introduced, Princess.” He said as he fell into step beside her.

“What’s the point? We already know who we are.” She said dryly, her eyes focused on the tapestry-lined corridor before her.

“It’s polite, usually. But since you’ve been late twice to meetings with me now, I’d say you’re not one for politeness, are you?” he said, and Clarke stopped walking. She turned to Bellamy, her eyebrows knitted together and her jaw dropped.

“How did you know about the first time?”

“I saw you down the corridor when I was waiting to go into the main hall.” Bellamy returned with a smirk, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall behind him. Clarke couldn’t quite process what she was seeing in front of her. What had happened to the serious, stern Bellamy striding across the main hall? Or sitting opposite her in the council chamber?

“Something wrong, Princess?” he asked, but there was no concern in his voice – only that smugness as he called her ‘Princess’ again.

“It’s Clarke, and no.” _Just my perception of you,_ she added silently, as she started walking again, this time more slowly.

“I prefer Princess.”

“I don’t care what you prefer – fine, call me Princess. It’s not like we’ll be talking much anyway.” She snapped, and he stopped walking. Clarke didn’t.

“We’ll see about that, Princess.” He called after her. She rolled her eyes as she turned a corner, leaving Bellamy Blake with her footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since I updated! Lots of University work going on, but I've been writing in my breaks!
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading, and thank you so much for the response I've been getting. Nothing makes me happier than to see I've got comments or kudos, so thank you to everyone who's responding.
> 
> As always, if there's anything you think I need to improve, or if you have any suggestions about details or plots or whatever, don't be shy, drop me a message or a comment.
> 
> Thank you all very much,  
> Beth xx


	4. Grain Supply Store

The days following Clarke’s hallway introduction with the new captain of the guard passed quickly. She went from the medical bay to tutors to council meetings to dinner with Octavia to more council meetings and back to the medical bay before bed time. She was comforted by the normality of it, the normality of routine returning after the chaos her father’s leaving had caused.

Clarke’s performance in her tutorials continued to impress her tutors, thus keeping her mother happy knowing that Clarke was doing what she should be doing. Each time she and her mother talked, Clarke found it easier; found the natural rhythm returning to their conversations.

Conversations became easier with Octavia, too. Clarke was growing fond of the girl’s enthusiasm for the castle grounds, and her fascination with things Clarke had always taken for granted; things like her butterfly garden, the indoor pool her father had commissioned one particularly warm summer, and all the freedom Phoenix Castle grounds had to offer. Clarke learned that Bellamy still kept his authority over Octavia, despite her resentment for it. According to her brutish older brother, Octavia wasn’t allowed to leave the grounds without an escort, and given that all the guards had thrown themselves into extra-training in order to impress Bellamy in his “tests”, there wasn’t anyone available to take her.

This was the case with the exception of one guard, who’d taken a shining to the younger Blake sibling. Clarke didn’t know that many of her guards very well - she only really knew her personal guards, since she spent most of her time with them perched on her shoulders – and this guard was no exception.

“Atom accompanied me for a walk in the gardens this morning. He’s been telling me all about Bellamy’s tests – I can’t believe how hard he’s making them work.” Octavia babbled on one evening. Normally Clarke enjoyed hearing about her new-found friend’s day, but when the subject turned to whichever boy Octavia had her eye on that day, Clarke usually tuned out.

“He’s so impressive – he says all the other guards are spending all of their spare time working themselves stupid, trying to suck up to Bellamy – but he doesn’t do that. I think he’s good enough already, and I’m sure he’ll pass Bell’s stupid tests without even trying.”

Clarke nodded absent-mindedly, moving some peas around on her plate.  She already knew about the lengths some of the guards were going to. Activity in the medical wing had increased tenfold since Bellamy had announced the assessments he was undertaking at the end of the month, with more and more guards combing in each day to get cuts and grazes patched up, and sprained ankles strapped. It was exhausting the staff, and annoying Clarke  no end. She hoped that after Bellamy was satisfied by the results of his _concerns_ , the guards would go back to working an appropriate amount, rather than overexerting themselves.

“Does your brother know about you and Atom?” Clarke asked, taking a sip of wine as she addressed Octavia, who rolled her eyes.

“No, but I don’t see why it matters. He doesn’t _own_ me.”

“That’s not – I wasn’t implying that he does. I’m just worried about how he’ll react when he does find out.” Clarke pictured Atom hanging by his fingers from the outer walls for an afternoon. Her comment seemed to bristle Octavia further: she dropped her fork onto the table in indignation.

“Bellamy should realise that I can make my own decisions about who I spend my time with.”

“Octavia, I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m just worried about Atom’s welfare, that’s all.” Clarke said defensively, though her voice held an edge of humour as she attempted to placate Octavia. “Besides, that’s just what parent-type-figures are like. They worry and they get defensive about stuff like this.”

Octavia scoffed, frowning.

“He’s already defensive-crazy about me. I’m not even allowed to leave the grounds on my own!” she huffed and leant back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. Neither girl seemed to have much appetite left, so Clarke called for the domestic staff to clear the table away as Octavia excused herself. Clarke watched the younger girl leave, her dislike for Bellamy Blake growing a little bit more in her chest.

Knowing that it would in no-way ease her dislike, Clarke dressed in her medical uniform and headed to the medical wing for the last stint of the day. She had a patient with a severe concussion to check on and hopefully discharge, and then she’d help the regular staff with the stragglers.

She was pleasantly surprised to find the medical wing in a peaceful, almost empty state. The other to medical attendants were flitting between the four people sitting on beds with various maladies and complaints, leaving the 5th for Clarke.

“Hey Harper.” Clarke said a grin as she walked over to her concussion patient, parchment in hand.

“Hey Clarke.”

“How are you feeling?” Clarke asked, tilting her head as she regarded Harper with a look of concern.

“Well the dizziness is gone and I can just about manage to look at a candle without feeling like my eyeballs want to jump out of my skull.” Harper replied cheerfully, with a tight smile. Clarke’s concern vanished, replaced with a wry smile.

“I think you’re good to go. Tell Jasper to watch where he’s waving his shield next time.” She warned, signing her name on the parchment to say she’d given her approval for the young guard’s discharge.

“Thanks, Clarke.” Harper slid off the bed and left the chamber with a quick bow to the princess, as Clarke turned her attention to the head physician, Jackson.

Jackson was busy filling in forms on his desk, and didn’t notice that Clarke had approached until she cleared her throat. A look of annoyance was on his face as he looked up at her, but it quickly melted into a warmer expression.

“Evening Jackson. What do you need me to work on?” Clarke asked, eyebrows raised expectantly. Jackson looked around at the relatively empty med bay, then down at his desk, before addressing Clarke with a jovial grin.

“Actually Clarke, I hate to say it, but we’re pretty much set here. It’s been pretty quiet this evening, and Glass and Luke are covering all the patients we have. Why don’t you treat yourself to an early night?”

Part of Clarke was relieved to head off to bed, since her last few nights she’d been a little bit restless in bed. Another part of her was glad to see that most people on the castle grounds were fit and healthy, and didn’t need to tending to. The final part of her was a disappointed that there was no-one for her to treat, but it was a small part, and easily settled by her work earlier in the day.

With a sigh and a smile and general goodbye called to the medial wing, Clarke set off back to her own rooms to settle down with a book before getting some shut eye, hoping that her sleep would be peaceful that night.

-

“Octavia?”

Clarke sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide, her heart hammering in her chest. Just a second ago, she’d been dreaming about hunting a deer with two heads, before she was awoken by the sound of  a shouting voice.

Clarke listened more keenly now she’d been awake for a few seconds, and heard someone crashing through her chambers. With a barely concealed yawn, she put on her dressing gown and opened her bedroom doors, poking her head out.

“Is someone there?” she called out, and Bellamy appeared in response. Clarke scowled.

“What are you doing in my chambers?” she asked indignantly, drawing her robe around her tighter. Bellamy just scowled and pushed past her into her bedroom as Clarke yelped.

“Hey, you can’t just wander in here whenever you like. Knocking first is polite.”

“Is she in here?” Bellamy ignored Clarke’s comment, and proceeded to look erratically around the room.

“Who? Octavia?”

“Yes, Octavia.”

“No. Why would she be in my rooms?”

“You’re both girls. Girls do sleepover things, don’t they?”

“Well for one, _princesses_ don’t really have sleepovers, and for two, that’s a bit sexist.” Clarke retorted with a hint of dry humour residing in her croaky “I-just-woke-up” voice.

Bellamy stopped searching, and looked at Clarke in exasperation. Clarke stared back at him, eyebrows raised. She tried not to notice how cute he looked in his dishevelled state – his hair looked so much better when it was loose and curly around his face, rather than slicked back.

“Well then where is she?”

“And I would know because…?”

“You two’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“So… that means I know her whereabouts at all hours of the night?”

Bellamy’s scowl seemed to deepen, and Clarke crossed her arms over her chest.

“She’s probably out chasing butterflies. She’s a big girl, Bellamy. She can take care of herself.”

“I’ve checked the butterfly garden, and the rose garden, and the pool, and all the places she likes to spend her time. I can’t find her.”

“Have you checked her rooms?” Clarke asked. The look on Bellamy’s face gave Clarke her answer.

“If she’s not here, and you’ve got nothing _useful_ to offer me-“ Bellamy bowed and brushed past Clarke, just as she had a flash of inspiration.

“Wait, Bellamy!” she followed him out into the hall. He’d stopped, and was looking at her expectantly. “She’s been talking about a guard a lot recently – Atom?” As soon as she said the name, Clarke could see recognition dawning over Bellamy’s face.

“That explains a lot.” He said darkly, before turning to leave.

“Bellamy, wait - I want to help you look.” Clarke said, and Bellamy stopped again. This time when he turned to look at her, a smirk was fixed on his face – it didn’t quite manage to dislodge the thinly-veiled rage that had settled in his eyes, though.

“Not a chance, Princess.”

“Why, is it dangerous? It’s my own castle. Besides, Octavia is my friend and I’m worried about her.” She argued, and Bellamy began to shake his head. “It’ll be easier to find her with two of us searching.” She cut him off before he could speak.

“I’ve got every available guard coming every inch of this place. What makes you think I need your help too?”

Clarke tried not to be offended by his comment.

“I grew up in this castle, Bellamy. I know all the secret places the guards have no idea exist.” She said with a smirk of her own, and watched as Bellamy’s smirk dropped. She could tell just by his face he was weighing up the options. “Besides, what’s going to stop me going to find her when you leave my rooms anyway?”

That seemed to win Bellamy over, at least until he drew his eyes from her feet to her head. His smirk returned.

“You’re not exactly dressed for a manhunt, Princess.”

“Wow, you got me, these are my only clothes.” Clarke retorted dryly. “Wait here.”

She returned to her rooms with a growled comment about time from Bellamy, and dressed as quickly as she could in some pants, a loose tunic and some hunting boots her father had given her for her 17th birthday. She didn’t fail to notice the look on Bellamy’s face as she strode past him, heading for the corridor.

He quickly feel into step next to her, as she was plaiting her hair over one shoulder. She kept pace with him easily – they didn’t talk much as they approached the barracks.

“I’m going to search Atom’s dorm; it’s on the top floor so I’ll work my way down. You should-”  
Bellamy began to instruct, but Clarke cut him off.

“Work my way up? No problem.” She said dryly, and with a nod to the captain she headed off into the weapons store, on the ground level of the barracks.

About half an hour later, Clarke and Bellamy bumped into each other in a 2nd floor corridor. Neither had found Octavia, and Bellamy had discovered the Atom was also missing – a fact which only seemed to make Bellamy angrier.

“Hey, it’s probably a good sign, that he’s most likely with her. He’ll protect her if he has to.” Clarke tried to calm him down as they practically galloped back down the barracks and out into the training yard.

“He shouldn’t _have_ to protect her _at all_.”

Bellamy stopped once he was outside, and looked around, running his hands through his hair. It was clear he didn’t know where to search, so Clarke put her mind to work.

Octavia could potentially be with a boy, in a romantic situation. This was the second boy she’d been romantically entangled with since her arrival at Phoenix, the first being the game keeper, Finn Collins. Memories of Finn Collins came flooding into Clarke’s head – she’d been similarly entangled with him a few months ago. He’d been her first love, and she had loved him – until she’d found out he’d already been promised to the daughter of a blacksmith in town. Heartbroken, she’d tried to forget the memories of those brief few months, but they’d come in handy in a situation like this. Realisation ticked into her head. She looked at Bellamy, and he looked back at her, his confusion contrasting with her revelation.

“What is it?” he asked, his hands dropping to his sides.

“I know where they are.” Clarke said triumphantly. “Grain supply store.”

This term meant nothing to Bellamy, who followed Clarke as she began heading over to the other side of the castle, closest to the entrance to Phoenix town.

On the East side of the castle there were four huge silos of grain, with a shed full of empty grain sacks nestled next to them. The shed had once been the hub of Clarke’s romantic activity, a site that had been introduced to her by Finn. Once upon a time, to see the shabby little shack had filled Clarke with a sense of contentment, but now, all she felt was resentment as the silos came into view.

“Why do you think she’ll be near the grain silos?” Bellamy asked, scepticism thick in his deep voice.

“I can’t really explain. I just know she’s there.” Clarke said. It wasn’t so much that she _knew_ , but more that she had a hunch that Finn would have taken Octavia there during their short courtship. She knew that he’d used the shack to see his betrothed on the grounds, when it wasn’t his turn to head into town. Clarke sighed, and Bellamy looked at her, his confusion growing with every step.

The closer they got, the more flustered Clarke grew. She hated this place now, and to be purposefully heading towards it made her uneasy to say the least. But she had to find Octavia, and she had to make sure that Bellamy didn’t kill Atom.

Sure enough, as they reached the shed, Clarke heard giggling. She sighed with relief, but Bellamy broke into a jog and near enough knocked the door down as he thundered in. Clarke, rather un-princess-like, swore under her breath and jogged the remaining steps, but was almost mown over as Bellamy dragged Atom out of the shed. Octavia followed on Bellamy’s heels, crying for him not to hurt the guard.

Clarke could only watch as Bellamy threw another punch at Atom, pinning him to the ground as Octavia stood by, tears streaming down her face, her hands over her mouth as she screamed for Bellamy to stop.

An action plan clicked in her mind, and Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s arm as he held it back for another swing. She surprised herself with her own strength as she managed to hang on, and prevented Bellamy from breaking Atom’s nose any further.

Bellamy looked back at her, half crazy, before realising just exactly who it was holding him back. He’d seemed to have lost himself in his anger, as he looked back down at Atom, lying bloody-faced and dazed beneath him, and then to Octavia who was crying as she cradled Atom’s face in her hands.

“Bellamy, enough.” Clarke snapped, only letting go of the captain’s arm once she was sure he’d gained control of himself. A look of cold fury took the place of crazed anger, and he stood up, taking Octavia by the arm as he dragged her away from Atom.

“No Bellamy, get off me! Get off! You hurt him, you hurt him!” Octavia cried, trying to wrench her arm from her brother’s grip. Clarke knelt down next to Atom to assess the damage, before helping him to sit up.

“I was so worried about you, how could you? How could you go off, disappearing into the night without saying anything?”

“How could _I?_ How could you! How could you beat Atom up for being with me?”

Atom would have a black-eye and a bruised nose in the morning, but nothing seemed to be broken, thankfully. She could clean him up easily, and give him an excuse for his affliction to save Bellamy from any reprimands from the council.

_Not that you should be trying to protect him. He might have killed Atom if you hadn’t have stopped him_ , Clarke thought bitterly as she ripped off a strip of her tunic to wipe the blood from his face. He’d cut his lip, too, and the blow to the nose had caused it to bleed. She gave him the rag and told him to pinch the bridge of his nose and tilt his head back to stop the bleeding, before turning to the arguing Blake siblings.

“That’s enough.” She barked, stepping around Atom to square off to Bellamy. “Octavia you shouldn’t have snuck off in the night like that, and Bellamy, you overreacted.” Clarke snapped with a measured voice. “Atom’s going to be fine, just sore.”

Bellamy pushed past Clarke, starting towards Atom, who was still sitting on the ground. Clarke turned to stop him from going again, but Bellamy just pointed at the guard.

“If I ever find you with my sister again, I’ll give you more than a nose bleed. Trust me.” He said darkly. “Come and find me at dawn tomorrow and we can discuss you making this up to me.”

With a brief glance at Clarke, he stalked back to Octavia and proceeded to take her by the arm to drag her back to her rooms. Clarke just looked after him with contempt in her eyes, until he was gone from sight, before she turned her attention to the injured Atom still sitting on the floor.

“She’s the one who suggested we come here.” He said lamely, and Clarke rolled her eyes as she stooped to help him up.

They walked to the medical bay in silence, Clarke glancing at him occasionally to check if his nose was still bleeding. It seemed to have slowed, which was a good sign, and by the time they arrived at the wing, it had stopped completely.

Ignoring the confused looks of Glass and Luke, the two attendants on call, she sat Atom on a bed and told him to wait while she got the equipment she’d need to patch him up.

“Clarke what are you – what happened?” Jackson was packing up when he noticed Clarke, walking back from the stores with a bowl of cleaning solution and some gauze pads in hand.

“I was out for a walk – couldn’t sleep – and one of the guards was sleep walking. He managed to give himself a black eye _and_ a nosebleed.” She lied, adding an eye roll as she headed back to Atom. Jackson didn’t question her, just shook his head before going back to storing his papers in a chest.

Ten minutes later, she’d cleaned and inspected Atom’s wounds, and sent him off to bed with a pack of poppy seeds to try to ease some of the pain that would be radiating through his face. To his credit, he didn’t wince or flinch when Clarke was cleaning him up; he just kept the same tired, slightly sad, slightly bewildered look on his face. _Probably reflecting the events of this evening_ , Clarke though dryly, choosing not to replay them for herself.  

She did, however, think them over as she stood at the sink, cleaning the blood and cleaning solution from her hands. Her feelings were torn about the whole scenario. On the one hand, she felt like Octavia was capable of dictating her own life, but on the other hand, she did think it was irresponsible for the younger girl to vanish like that.

When it came to Bellamy, Clarke still felt complete resentment for the captain. But she couldn’t help but admire the lengths he went to protect his younger sister, even if they were extreme. Her father had been that protective of her, her mother still was. That thought didn’t give Bellamy much favour, though – Clarke hated how little her mother trusted her. How much her mother still viewed Clarke as a child.

This internal debate followed Clarke all the way back to her chambers, as she undressed, brushed her hair, and flopped back into bed. This time when she dreamed, the two-headed deer was gone, replaced by a figure she didn’t recognise, as he ran though the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt a bit rushed... Not quite sure how to fix that.
> 
> But I hope you enjoy this one! And as always, thank you so much for all your responses, it makes me so happy every time I get an email from AO3! Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Beth :) xx


	5. Every Rose has its Thorns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's been a while, I've been going through some stuff but I should be updating regularly again now :)

Clarke woke up from her sleep feeling equal parts refreshed and uneasy. She’d slept soundly, but the combination of her weird dreams, and the events of last night trickled through her sleepy mind as she sat up, leaving a frown on her face.

If she closed her eyes, Clarke could still hear the sounds of the forest in her ears. The leaves rustled, and birds sang, and even though she knew that it wasn’t real, the ghost of her dream still brought the memory of it back into her mind. The two headed deer, with its mangled and raw features leaping away from her as she ran through the leafy green woods, twigs and dead leaves snapping and crunching beneath her boots.

Before her eyes, the deer transformed into a man – a man with no face, only a broad back and tangled hair, as he sprinted away from her, the space between them distancing with every step. All she wanted, all she needed, was to see his face. He looked so familiar – so familiar it hurt – but she couldn’t guess who it was. No, she couldn’t _remember_ who he was. Reaching for his identity, for the memory of his identity, was as fruitful as her physically reaching him as they ran through the forest.

Clarke took a deep breath and opened her eyes, running her fingers through her hair. She wasn’t dreaming any more, and she needed to not focus on it. A busy day of fixing the broken guards Bellamy sent her way awaited her, and the oily residue left on her fingers told her that she needed to wash her hair before she set foot in the clinic – needed to wash off the memory of her dream, and the events of the previous night.

She was indulgent with her shower, letting the water soak deep into her skin, the rhythm of the jets relaxing the tight muscles of her neck and shoulders. She scrubbed her scalp with shampoo that smelled of green tea leaves, relishing each second that she felt cleaner and cleaner.

When Clarke felt squeaky clean, she dried and dressed herself, combing through her blonde hair with her fingers, securing the front locks with a twist at the back of her head. Her dress was simple, since she’d only be wearing a medic overall over the top of it, but it was still detailed and beautiful. She was a princess – everything she owned was detailed and beautiful.

After ringing the bell for someone to bring her breakfast and coffee, Clarke paused by one of the windows in her chamber.

She could see for miles out of her window, being so high up on the hill and so high up in the castle. She could see Caspeia Forest, with its dark green canopy stretching across for acres out of view. The wide open fields surrounding Pheonix, broken only by the busy roads where farmers, merchants and many other travellers made their way to and from the city and its surrounding villagers. Tiny white sheep milled about on hills, the flocks like huge white clouds in bright green skies.

But what caught her eye was much closer to home.

Clarke’s room overlooked part of the castle gardens. She watched as a loan figure ran along the copse of trees that lined that part of the gardens – she could see from her window the shadows on his face. Atom. Was that Bellamy’s punishment? Making him run rings around the castle until he passed out? Just the thought of it made Clarke bristle with anger.

True, Octavia went about her courtship with Atom in the completely wrong way, but what right did Bellamy have to treat his sister’s suitor in this way?

Unless of course, this was just the Captain’s way of disciplining ill-behaving guards. Either way, it was just another reason for Clarke to put on her ever-growing list of things to dislike about Bellamy Blake.

The maid knocked on Clarke’s door, pulling her out of her dark spiral. The smell of coffee filled the room, and instantly she felt better.

-

With a cup of coffee and some pancakes in her, Clarke was buzzing by the time she got down to the medical wing. Buzzing right up until she reached the corridor, when she heard commotion, and sounds of action and movement that accompanied a busy medical wing.

Pushing the pushy Captain of the Guard out of her mind, Clarke pressed on, filling herself up with determination. She liked a challenge, and a full medical wing was definitely a challenge.

But by mid-morning, after treating the same sprains and fractures over and over, Clarke felt like she’d had all the practice she could ever need. She called Glass over to cover her beds while she took a short break, to get some fresh air and give her back and knees a rest. The constant bending over and down and leaning in awkward positions trying to remain steady while she set an arm or a leg, or checked out a bruise or a graze in an odd place had made her back ache and her knees sore. She needed to walk it off, maybe have a little sit down.

She left the medical wing for a stroll down the corridor that linked to it.

Clarke loved her castle. The stone walls were chilly, but it was a temperature that refreshed her – especially in the summer months when the air was hot and heavy, the thick stone walls were a blessing, like stepping into a refrigerated pantry. And the age of it – Phoenix Castle had been standing for hundreds of years, and the kinds of stories those walls could tell – it was unimaginable.

Caught up in her own little world, Clarke jumped when a trio of soldiers rounded the corner.

The middle soldier was limp between the other two, with an arm draped around each of their soldiers. Clarke immediately recognised Atom, if only just by the black eye and the dark purple that had blossomed across the bridge of his nose.

“What happened?” Clarke asked, immediately stepping over to press her fingers under the guard’s chin. The two guards – Clarke recognised Jasper and Monroe – exchanged sheepish looks before Monroe replied.

“Boss had him running laps around the castle since 5 this morning. He said that he’d been missing too much training, and had broken regulation, so he needed to catch up. Told him that he could stop running when he couldn’t run anymore.” She explained, as Clarke led them into the medical wing. Atom’s pulse was a little bit weak, and very elevated, and she immediately left them to soak a cloth in cool water to place over the boy’s forehead.

“Did nobody think to stop him before he ran himself unconscious?” Clarke snapped when she returned, glaring between the two guards as she took Atom’s temperature using a mercury thermometer. Again, they shared a glance.

“We tried to stop him after he threw up the first time, but Captain Blake was… he insisted that Atom kept running. He called it a ‘stamina test’” Jasper said, with a hint of fear in his voice, and an exaggerated shudder.

Fury blossomed in Clarke’s chest like nothing she had ever felt before. He was meant to be training the guards, not breaking them. With the amount of injuries coming through the wing, she wondered if there were any guards left to do their jobs.

Clarke called Jackson over as she, in a very un-princess-like manner, stepped out of her medic’s uniform. She explained the situation, and told the head physician that she needed to have words with Bellamy about the volume of injured guards. Stern, very-princess-like words. Jackson nodded, stepping into place beside Atom to resume his treatment.

Jasper and Monroe were more than happy to accompany Clarke back to Bellamy. Her two usual guards followed behind the younger pair, and Clarke wondered if they’d been subject to Bellamy’s “tests” yet.

“Does Bellamy normally dole out this kind of punishment for guards who are slacking?” Clarke asked the group, without looking back at them.

“…No, not really. Usually he just takes them aside to talk to them, make sure everything’s okay and offers them extra training if they want it. The super lazy ones, he’s sent packing, but that’s only been one or two.” Monroe said, her voice relaxed and polite.

“Yeah, but we all know why Atom received his cruel and unusual punishment this morning.” Jasper said wryly, causing Clarke to frown sharply.

“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously, knowing what the young guard was about to say. She wanted to find out how much the other guards knew, how much other _people_ knew. Clarke had grown up among catty members of the court, and she had seen many times how quickly they could tear someone down because of a rumour.

“Well, Atom was bang- ahem, courting his sister, wasn’t he? That’s why we were all out looking for her last night, and why he turned up to training this morning with a face like someone had stepped on it.” Jasper replied, his voice dry with humour. Clarke rolled her eyes. Of course he would think this was funny, it was Jasper.

His jokes and sense of humour were a huge part of why Clarke liked the boy so much – lack of seriousness aside. He was young, and he had lots of insecurities about his abilities as a guard, but Clarke had faith in him – just like Thelonius did. She wondered if Bellamy would be good enough to nurture Jasper’s talents without scaring him off. Thus far, she sincerely doubted it.

“It was a bit of an overreaction though, I mean come on – his sister’s like, 16, 17 isn’t she? She’s old enough to be knowing what guys are good and what guys are bad for her. Atom isn’t exactly Fi – Casanova.” Monroe replied just as jokily, but choked on her last words. Clarke’s anger spiked again, but a small, smug part of her was glad that Finn’s adultery was a joke amongst guards – even if it was just these two.

They walked outside into the bright sunlight, into the sound of swords clashing and the soft whumps of arrows hitting straw targets. Laughter floated across the training yard, accompanied by the occasional swear word, and groans and moans and taunts, and everything that accompanied guards in training.

Clarke scanned the crowd of guards for the Captain, and found him in the middle, sparring with a young guard she didn’t recognise.

Bellamy wasn’t wearing a helmet, or armour, just a normal shirt and pants. She didn’t fail to notice that his shirt was partway undone, revealing a sliver of tanned, muscular chest. She quickly ignored it and returned her focus to his smug face as he parried and blocked with his blunted sword.

“Captain Blake.” She snapped, marching up to the match. The shout surprised him, and for a second he lost concentration. His partner jumped at the window of opportunity, jabbing his own sword towards the captain’s chest.

Bellamy quickly recovered and batted the blade out of the way with his own, so that the other guard’s sword only just grazed Bellamy’s arm.

“Just a minute, Princess.” Bellamy called, as he launched himself into a series of jabs and swipes, putting the other guard under heavy pressure. To Clarke’s amazement, the boy held his own – even managed to get a couple of swipes in when Bellamy was between moves.

“How many more of your guards will be injured within another minute, I wonder?” Clarke retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.

With a quick glance at her, and a devilish smirk that sent her stomach in spirals, he let go of whatever restraint he had and released an onslaught of attacks that sent his sparring partner scrambling through the dirt. Within seconds, the guard’s sword was out of his reach and Bellamy’s sword was an inch from his throat.

“You did well, Miller.” Bellamy commented, as he dropped his own sword to the ground. “Very well, in fact. See me in my office when we’ve finished training for today, we can have a chat.” Bellamy’s grin lit up his entire face as he extended his arm to help the guard up. Miller smiled back at him, and nodded. He bowed quickly to the princess before scurrying off, to get some water and rest Clarke hoped.

Seeing Bellamy being so encouraging towards Miller almost made Clarke regret her decision coming to find him. There was no trace of the anger he’d displayed last night in his smile.

“Yes, your highness?” Bellamy asked, and though it was said perfectly respectfully, there was a glint in his eye that brought Clarke’s feelings of anger back up to the surface. She turned her head to the side and nodded, signalling that Jasper and Monroe and her own two guards could leave.

“Is there somewhere quiet we can go?” Clarke asked, trying to mask her feelings as best she could. As angry as she was, she wasn’t about to undermine the new captain in front of his guards.

“Of course, Princess.” He said, with that smirk again, before he turned and led the way to a shed on the edge of the training yard. The shed, which normally stored training dummies, blunted swords, straw targets and everything else needed for training was completely empty. Thankfully, that meant the area was empty of guards, too.

“What can I help you with?” Bellamy’s question was laced with seriousness, and Clarke frowned. It was like he’d completely forgotten the events of the night before, and the damage he’d caused to Atom today.

“You pushed Atom too hard. Was the beating you gave him last night not enough?” Not wanting to beat around the bush, Clarke got straight to point, and it brought her some joy to see Bellamy’s face darken.

“He needed to learn, and I needed to set an example to all the guards that they are here to _work_ , not to mess around with girls and boys at court.” He said darkly, looking Clarke squarely in the eye.

“So running him half to death is the solution, is it? And that’s the standard punishment for misdemeanours?”

“Please, he threw up a few times then fainted. Half-to-death is exaggerating. And yes, actually – all guards falling behind are submitted to extra training sessions.”

“So Jasper and Monroe told me – extra training session supported by _you_. Not ‘run around the castle until you can’t move’. How much more training will he have to do now, because you’ve put him out of work for the next couple of days?”

Bellamy was silent at this, though his expression was still very dark. Clarke found it difficult to tell what he was thinking.

“Octavia is a big girl, and this is a whole new world for her. She’s going to want to explore, and if you explode every time she wanders a little bit too far, you’re going to mess up. Either with your work, or with her.”

It was clear that Clarke had crossed a line, bringing the Captain’s younger sister up, and before she could carry on, Bellamy grabbed her arm and hauled her around the back of the shed, out of view.

“Don’t tell me what Octavia is.” Bellamy was standing all too close to Clarke, and she felt her heartrate elevate. She didn’t cower though – she stared defiantly back at him, her lips pursed. “I’m her older brother – I practically raised her from a baby, and raise her for the last 6 years. I know what, and who she is. I know what this is for her. You have _no idea_ what we’ve been through, what she’s been through. Don’t tell me she’s a big girl and she can handle herself.” He stopped, and took a breath before he realised he was still gripping onto her arm, and how close he was to her, and the look of concern and anger in her eyes. He took a step back from Clarke, releasing her.

“This job – this job is more important to me than anything in the whole world – except her. I shouldn’t admit this, Princess, because my number one priority is keeping you and your mother and this castle safe, but it’s my job to keep her safe as well, just as safe as you and your mother. And if I have to run a guard or two out of here to keep it that way, then I’m going to.”

Clarke didn’t know what to say. The fierceness of his behaviour made her want to argue back, and tell him what he should and shouldn’t be doing. But the surety in his voice, the calm, confident yet apologetic tone made her want to trust him. To believe him. At least, when it came to Octavia.

“Go easier on the guards. They’re clogging up the medical bay, and soon you’re not going to have any left to guard the castle.” Clarke snapped, after a few seconds of silence. With that final comment, she stalked back to the castle, her guards falling into step behind her. She had no doubt they had been watching the encounter, but they made no comment as she headed for the medical wing.


	6. Conversations

“-The most bone-headed, arrogant, obnoxious –“

  
“He’s cute though.”

  
Clarke snorted indignantly.

  
“Cute? Yeah, I guess so, kind of like how a wild boar is cute.”

  
“Oh come on Clarke, your radar for hot guys is incredible. You can’t say you haven’t noticed the hair, the body… the smile…” Lilly, Clarke’s best friend, confidante, and all-round companion sighed as she leant forward, resting her chin on the palm of her upturned hand. The pair of them were standing on one of the higher levels of the castle, looking out over all the fields and forests their eyes could see from the castle. The sun was setting, and the pair were catching up on all the gossip.

  
When they were little children, they were practically inseparable, even when they slept – Lilly had so many sleepovers in Princess Clarke’s room, and spent so much time with the royal family, Clarke viewed Lilly as more of a sister than a friend.

  
Which only made it so much more annoying because she knew Lilly was right.

  
“Aesthetics only makes up for so much. All the curls, body, freckles and smile in the world can’t make up for a nasty personality.” Clarke retorted, and Lilly gasped scandalously.

  
“I never mentioned freckles! You have noticed! Clarke, does your thirst know no bounds?” Lilly teased, and Clarke pushed her friend away.

  
“Oh shush, you completely missed the point.”

  
“Clarke and Bellamy, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-“ Lilly was unable to finish, due to Clarke slapping her hand over her friend’s mouth. Lilly raised her eyebrows and poked her tongue out, licking Clarke’s hand.

  
“Ew, gross.” Clarke replied, recoiling her hand as she attempted to wipe the saliva on Lilly’s dress. The girls danced around for a couple of seconds, Clarke trying to wipe her hand and Lilly trying to avoid it, laughing and giggling like hyenas.

  
The playfight conceded after a few seconds, and the girls turned back to the window, smiles wide on their faces. Clarke relished the chance to play around without consequences – to laugh as loudly and harshly as she wanted, and not have to act like a princess for once.

  
“Well if you don’t want him, then I’ll take him.” Lilly said coyly, with a side glance to check Clarke’s reaction. To her disappointment, if Clarke felt any adverse reaction, she hid it well. “It might keep my mother happy. She’s been harping on about me being the ‘proper age to begin a courtship with a suitable bachelor’.” Lilly imitated her mother’s tone perfectly, which made Clarke laugh again.

  
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. You know how he reacted to Atom and his sister-“

  
“I like a protective man.” Lilly purring, her lips curling in a saucy smile.

  
“There’s protective, and then there’s ‘nearly killing someone because I feel threatened’ protective. I just don’t know if I’d feel… comfortable with you being around someone so violent.”  
Clarke’s response made Lilly frown deeply.

  
“Ugh, Clarke, you’re overreacting. From what I’ve heard, he’s a perfect gentleman.”

  
“Who did you hear that from?” Clarke said, her voice sceptical.

  
“Some girls at court. You’d have heard it too, if you didn’t sit around daydreaming, pretending you’re too good for them.” Lilly snapped, and a flicker of regret danced across her eyes. It disappeared behind the steely resolve that replaced it, as Clarke opened her mouth to reply.

  
“I do not think I am too good for them!” she retorted hastily. “But when was the last time they contributed anything helpful to the kingdom, I mean, really? Think about it.”

  
“Clarke, court isn’t about contributing stuff to the kingdom! Court is about being sociable, it’s about spending time with your subjects! You discuss running the kingdom in council meetings, not at court-“

  
“Council meetings are way more important than some excuse to sit around in a dress looking pretty and having vapid, inane conversations with people I can’t stand!”

  
“See? This is exactly what I mean, Clarke. You think your level of conversation is so much more intellectual than ours, but it’s not. You think that because you were born into the royal family you’re – you know what, it doesn’t matter.” Lilly stopped midsentence. She hadn’t meant for their conversation to end up this way, and she didn’t want to lose her friend.

  
“No, carry on. I think I’m what?” Clarke asked, and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes. Lilly felt the challenge in her rise up before she could stop it.

  
“Special.” Lilly replied. It was a tactful voice, though not a particularly eloquent choice of word. “You’re just a person, Clarke. Just a person with responsibility. I worry about you, you know? You don’t have a lot of friends, and now with everything going on with The Ground, I just... I want to see you happy.” Lilly finished, tugging at the sleeves of her gown as she did so.

  
Silence followed her explanation, before Clarke let out a long, rattling sigh.

  
“It’s hard.” Clarke said finally, “Dad’s been gone a month, maybe two, and he’s probably dead. Thelonius too, and that just brings me so much closer to everything being my responsibility. It brings me so much closer to everything being my fault, if things go wrong. And I can’t even do half the stuff I should be doing! Like training in battle strategy, and swordplay and –“

  
“So ask your mom?"

  
“I have. She said no. She pulled the queen card on me too, so you know it’s serious.”

  
More silence as both girls thought.

  
“Could you ask around the guards? They’ve always loved you; you might be able to find a tutor.”

  
Clarke opened her mouth to argue, then shut it. It wasn’t a bad idea – the guards did seem to have a soft spot for their princess, and if she wasn’t going to get anywhere with her mother, then maybe it would be better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

  
“Besides, I’m sure Bellamy would be an excellent tutor. So attentive and serious-“

  
Lilly was cut off as Clarke gave her a playful push at the balcony’s edge.

  
-

  
Bellamy placed the last of the sword racks back into the shed, grunting as he lowered it onto the concrete.

  
“Want some help?” someone asked from outside, but Bellamy declined as he straightened up.

  
“Already got it, but thanks.” He stepped out in the late afternoon sunshine, to see that it was Miller standing outside. Most of the guards had cleared off, or were making their way away from the training yard, chatting as they headed for the barracks.

  
“You said I should meet you in your office, but I was helping put stuff away… I just thought it’d make more sense. That I meet you here.” Miller explained, standing with his arms behind his back. Bellamy raised an eyebrow as he headed towards the main castle. His office was in the tower closest to the barracks, but he still had to go through the castle to get there. It was, at times, inconvenient, but not as inconvenient as it could have been.

  
“Walk with me.” Bellamy said, inviting the young guard to join him. “You showed impressive skill today, Nathan. Very impressive – you put up a better fight than most people I’ve sparred since I’ve been here, and I’ve gotten through about eighty percent of the soldiers now.” Bellamy glanced over at Miller, to see his face was restrained, but there was a joy in his eyes that made Bellamy smile. But it wasn’t as if Miller was undeserving of the praise – Bellamy meant every word.

  
“Thank you, sir.”

  
“Listen, I’m looking to recruit a first lieutenant, to serve as my second-in-command. Well, I will be, when Lieutenant Scott retires next month. I’d like to offer you the position, as long as you continue to show the skill that you showed today.” Bellamy stopped outside his office door, and turned to look at Miller. The young guard was very good as masking his feelings, but his eyes gave everything away.

  
“Are you sure, sir? I’m young – Sergeant Shumway would be a better choice –“ Miller began, but Bellamy cut him off as he opened the door to his office, holding out his arm to signal for Miller to enter.

  
“It’s true, Sergeant Shumway has more experience than you, but the trouble is… he has his own way of doing things. I rely on their advice and their experience, but the older soldiers can tend to get a bit stuck in their ways.” Bellamy explained as he followed Miller into his office. He sat behind his desk, while Miller sat opposite him. “Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for them, but I’m looking for something different in my Lieutenant. I’m looking for someone with sufficient skill and strength, and for someone with a fresh mind, and new ideas.”

  
“…Like why Queen Abby hired you?” Miller ventured, connecting the dots. Bellamy scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly.

  
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not sure what she’ll think of my decision, but once I’ve explained, I’m sure she’ll understand.” Worry flickered briefly across Miller’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m sure that she, and Kane, will agree it’s a good decision. And as for the rest of the council – they don’t really matter. Plus, your father will support you, I’m sure.”

  
At the mention of his father, even Miller couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

  
“Thank you so much, sir-“

  
“Call me Bellamy.”

  
“Bellamy, then. I won’t let you down.” Miller said, standing. He dipped his head as he left, a spring in his step that made Bellamy grin.

  
But once he was on his own, the smile dropped as a cloud of thought settled into his mind.

  
What he’d told Miller about Shumway was true, but it wasn’t the only reason why Bellamy didn’t want the sergeant as his second-in-command. Bellamy had only been in the castle for a few days, but he’d been privy to a few hushed conversations among members of the court and council. Bellamy had never really been affected by King Jake’s leadership – his direct leader was Lord Walden, and they were so far away from the Capital that the King’s reign had been little bit lax, out by the coast.

  
But from what Bellamy had gathered, Jake had been a force to be reckoned with – he had divided court with his determination to do what was right, to do what was best for the people, without fail. Bellamy snorted; that kind of thinking, about the common people as equals to the gentry, tended to make the gentry anxious. He’d seen that first hand being the commoner son of a guard and a seamstress, but who’d worked closely with the gentry whilst protecting and serving them as a guard.

  
Bellamy’s main concern with the gossip was some people’s anxieties involving Queen Abby. They felt that, next to King Jake’s legacy, she was weaker, less able to lead. From what he’d seen thus far, it seemed like complete garbage, but he had only been in Phoenix for a few days.

  
Shumway was one of the biggest contributors to the gossip. He and a duchess from Arcadia, a region of Arkearth, were always together during court, whispering and making comments. Bellamy stood with Shumway while he talked with Diana sometimes, so he could listen in, and all he heard were criticisms of the Queen.

  
He couldn’t bring himself to closely trust someone who criticised his leader so easily. Yes, Bellamy was sure that choosing Sergeant Shumway would have been the wrong decision to make. As for Miller, he had a month to change his mind, though Bellamy was confident it wouldn’t be needed. Miller was hardworking, skilled and stronger than most of the other guards, and he had a good head for tactics. Bellamy wondered why Queen Abby hadn’t chosen Miller to be the Captain, since he was only a year younger than Bellamy. Though the young guard was so quiet, Bellamy could see why he may have been overlooked.

  
He sighed, and left his chair to make a fire in the hearth. He could do with some coffee, and Octavia had bought some expensive coffee beans for him, as a celebratory present.

  
“I should go and see her, make sure she’s alright after last night.” Bellamy said to himself as he stoked the fire, coaxing the spark into a flame.

  
Octavia was… difficult, sometimes. Especially since they’d arrived in Phoenix. She’d been so confined in Walden, hardly able to leave their house. Bellamy didn’t trust her to be alone outside, given Walden’s reputation for criminality. People would be jumping at the opportunity to scam someone as naïve and innocent as Octavia into buying something, or doing something she didn’t understand.

  
Phoenix was safer, to a point, but Bellamy still didn’t trust her – well, he didn’t trust her ability to remain safe. If anything, last night’s escapades had enforced his distrust. Why hadn’t she told Bellamy that she was seeing Atom? The beating, the running, the tongue-lashing from Clarke, it could all have been avoided if she’d just told her brother. Of course, he’d have told them to break it off immediately , and she’d still be upset with him, but he’d still have a functioning guard and Octavia would at least be less annoyed at him.

  
And Clarke. She was something else. Whatever people thought of Queen Abigail Griffin, there was no way they could have the same anxieties over her daughter. Bellamy could sense that Abby was over-compensating her insecurity with force, as demonstrated by her responses in council meetings, or conversations with Kane and Clarke. She always had to remind them she was Queen, and what she said was final. Bellamy respected her, and had no reservations about her abilities as a leader, but it was impossible for him to ignore it.

  
But Clarke… Clarke spoke and moved and acted with such surety, such authority, there could be no doubt that she was born to be a leader. If she wasn’t so annoyingly argumentative, Bellamy might have found it endearing. But as it stood, with her challenging almost everything he said at council meetings, he just found her troublesome. He didn’t like that she’d taken Octavia under her wing, either; he was grateful that Clarke seemed to be looking after her (though last night’s events made him re-evaluate that sentiment), but he was worried that spending time with the princess might make his baby sister even more challenging that she already was.

  
Bellamy set a kettle of water on the fire, and flopped into one of the leather chairs that stood next to the hearth. His office doubled as a living space, with his bedroom and washroom joining onto the large stone room. He looked around at the bookcase-lined walls, the faded tapestries and the slightly-tattered furniture, and smiled. It suited him just fine; the shabby quality of his lodgings reminded him of his mother’s house back in Walden, and the book shelves provided more than enough space for his history books.

  
He didn’t have many belongings though, which left the room looking quite bare. He knew that over time the space would be filled with tactical manuals and notes from council meetings, the personal files of his guards and more, but at the moment, he couldn’t help but feel kind of… lonely.

  
He’d always lived in a one bedroom house with his sister – his mother and sister had shared a double bed, and Bellamy had a cot against the wall, and when his mother died he’d grown used to falling asleep to the sound of one person snoring, rather than two. But now that he slept in a room on his own, with nothing but the sounds of the night to keep him company, he was finding it hard to fall asleep.

  
He was kept busy during the day with training and testing and meetings, but at the end of the day, when he was sitting in his office on his own, he really did miss Octavia’s company. Even when they both just sat in silence, reading or working or whatever, she was still there, still tapping her foot against the coffee table, or humming to herself under her breath.

  
Bellamy took the kettle off when it began boiling, and poured some water into his mug, flavouring it with the ground up coffee beans and savouring the bitter, golden smell that filled the air. He really should go and apologise, try to make it up to her. She had to learn that that kind of behaviour wasn’t acceptable, but then, neither had his been.

  
He sighed as he leant back, coffee cup in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god does time fly.  
> I want to thank you so much everyone for the kudos that have trickled in for the last 2 years - one of my last author notes said things had gotten rough and oy, was that an understatement.  
> Anyway, I have returned eager to finish this! And I've had 2 years to stew over it, so hopefully when I'm finished it should be awesome!  
> So again, thank you so much for your patients, I love each and every person reading this :) <3


	7. Concessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short and probably not great because I wrote it in about half an hour, read it once and i'm posting it right now but I wanted to get something out so I can try and get on the ball with it in 2017! 
> 
> if you're reading I hope you have wonderful year!

“Not a chance, Princess.” 

Clarke stared across the desk at the top of Bellamy’s head whilst he was noting something down.

“Why not? You were all for it at the council meeting the other day.” She snapped, taken aback.

“Yeah, before your mother, my employer and our queen told us no. It’s not happening.” Bellamy replied, still not looking up at the princess.

“Well she wouldn’t know about it? Just teach me how to fight in secret and then-“

“I’m not risking it, Clarke. And don’t even think about asking any of my guards to help you either; I do not want to have to dismiss any of them.” He warned, his dark eyes finally meeting hers.

Clarke scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning away from him in exasperation. She was annoyed that he’d guessed her intentions, although she’d asked every guard she could that day already. All of them had sheepishly declined. 

“Well what if I got attacked? And I couldn’t defend myself? Then you won’t have done your job properly.” She said, whipping around to face him with a smirk.

“If you got attacked, you’d have your guards with you to protect you.” Bellamy replied calmly. Clarke watched his quill scribble furiously across the paper he held beneath his fingers before continuing.

“Okay so I’m just supposed to hide behind others while they risk their lives? How noble of me.” She said dryly. Her eyes moved from Bellamy’s notetaking to the walls, tall and cold and filled edge-to-edge with half-empty bookcases. It had been a week since their altercation in the courtyard, and thoughts of the Captain had been more frequent than she would have liked. Mostly they had been thoughts of how best to approach the topic of her training, though a few had been paired with a lingering feeling of wanting to know more about Bellamy.

“And what if my guards are overcome? Then what am I supposed to do, just stand there and wait for them to do… whatever?”

“If your guards, who’ve been training for more than ten years, can’t stop an attacker, you think you’d be able to stop them with a bit of basic training?” Bellamy snorted, “Besides, that wouldn’t happen. You and your mother have the best fighters in the land guarding you. You’re perfectly safe, Princess Clarke.”

The addition of Clarke’s title caused her to bristle. He was riling her up, and she knew that if she lost her temper he would never agree to help her; he was as stubborn as she was.

“Bellamy, please. I just want to do something so I don’t feel so… I don’t know. Fragile.” It felt awkward, admitting it, but it was true. She had a strong mind, and a strong heart, but words and knowledge could only get you so far.

There was a pause in the conversation, and Clarke found herself unexpectedly nervous as she waited for his response. She hated feeling weak, but she hoped that by making Bellamy see she felt that way, he might take some pity on her. Her breath caught as his pen stilled, her eyes tense as she watched him place it back in its ink.

“Theory. I’ll give you some theory lessons – Queen Abby can’t find anything wrong with that.”

Clarke let loose a breath. It wasn’t want she wanted, but it was something, at least. 

“Thank you, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, okay. Meet me here tomorrow after dark, and we’ll start then.” He said, standing to show Clarke to the door. 

She was still a little pissed that he wasn’t training her for an actual fight, but it was a fair compromise, and she could always wear him down. So, she smiled as she passed through the door.

“Tomorrow, then.”


	8. Long Live the Queen

Queen Abigail Griffin gazed from a window in her chambers, looking across at her lands as they stretched east towards the border with The Ground. These chambers she had once shared with her husband, King Jake Griffin. Her grip tightened on the window frame she clung to, knuckles turning white as she braced herself, fighting back the tears in her eyes with everything she had.

Marcus Kane stood solemnly behind her, watching his queen with a heavy heart. His hands were grasped behind his back, but his posture was sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Abby. My spies confirmed it this morning.” 

Gone. Dead. The magnificent ruler of the land that was now hers to protect had been executed by the Grounders. Her husband, her daughter’s father, the man she loved had been taken from her.

“…How?” Abby’s voice was low and gravelly as she spoke. Marcus shifted uncomfortably, unsure if he should give her the details. “Tell me, Marcus!” she barked when he didn’t reply.

“He was executed publicly, before a congregation of their people. The Commander was present but she just watched as they…” he faltered again, his gaze moving from Abby to the floor.

“As they what?” Abby asked, finally turning to look at her advisor. Muted horror painted her face, though her eyes were alight with a kind of reserved expectation. She knew they were savages, but she needed to know to what extent. If they were intending to start a war, she needed to know exactly how cruel The Ground could be.

“They took it in turns to cut him. Arms, legs, body, face… He died when the Commander finally stepped in to put a blade through his heart, your majesty.” Marcus finished, trying to be as pragmatic as possible. No need to upset the queen further with gory descriptions.

Abby stared at the floor, nodding her head slightly. 

“So, he suffered until the end?” she asked quietly.

Marcus nodded soberly. Abby nodded in response once more, before turning back to the window.

“And Thelonius?” she asked, her voice far more even and calm than Marcus had been expecting. She was poised, she was composed – she was a queen.

“No sign of him, he wasn’t executed with Jake. My people have been on the lookout for him, but they’ve seen nothing of him since he arrived at their capital.” 

“I see. And are there new reports of changes to their patrolling routines?” Abby asked, and Marcus frowned. Straight on to business; she hadn’t even taken a second to grieve.

“No, your majesty, they’re still pulling soldiers away from the borders.” He paused, concern twisting his insides up.

“Please keep me updated if anything changes. Anything at all.” Abby said. “That will be all, thank you.”

With a nod, Marcus turned to leave, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling of worry that was tearing him up.

“Your ma- Abby.” His voice was soft as he turned back. “Jake was… he was a beloved ruler. If there is anything I can do in your time of mourning, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Marcus.” Abby’s voice was equally as soft as she turned to smile gratefully at him. He returned the smile, and with a small bow, he finally turned to leave. 

“Actually, you could do me one favour: could you send Clarke to see me, please?”

“Of course, Abby.” Marcus agreed, his stomach sinking as he thought of the burden that was about to befall the young Princess’ shoulders.

-

Clarke had been on her way back from Bellamy’s office when Marcus found her. It wasn’t uncommon for her mother to send for her, though she never usually sent for her this late in the day. 

Nerves tickled away at her as she wondered what it could be about. Maybe someone had informed the Queen about her requests for combat training? There would be no way for her mother to have found out about Bellamy’s agreement in the time it had taken Marcus Kane to find her walking through the corridors of the castle.

She chewed on the inside of her lip as they approached the doors to her mother’s chambers. Marcus gave her shoulder a squeeze and a wan smile, which only furthered her worry. Another reason popped into the back of her head, but she quickly crushed it.

With a quick rap on the door her mother called her in, and immediately she could feel something was wrong. Abby wasn’t glaring at her daughter, wasn’t looking at her with disappointment or anger. She was sitting on one of the couches in her main suite, two cups of steaming tea resting on the table beside her. And she was smiling. But it wasn’t a happy smile.

Clarke pressed herself against the door she’d just entered through, as though she could meld right through it, or become part of it, anything to get out of this room. To get out of being her. 

The words that came out of Abby’s mouth were words that Clarke had been desperately praying she would never hear. 

“Clarke, honey,” the queen’s voice quavered slightly as she watched her daughter, “I’m so sorry.”

It was as though she could physically feel her heart breaking inside her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel; for a second, all her senses brightened so far that everything overwhelmed her. The lights in the room, the sounds of the night outside her mother’s window, the smell of the teas on the table, the feel of the hard wood behind her and the clothes on her skin – it was too much.

She sank to the ground as a sob broke from her lips.

Her dad, her hero and her role model, was dead. She could feel a pressure on her forehead as she thought back to the last time she’d seen her father, in the exact place he’d pressed his last kiss, and she could hear his voice as he told her how proud he was of her. Of who she’d become.

She’d told him that he’d be there to see it, to see her grow up and become a ruler worthy of his pride. And he’d smiled, climbed onto his horse, and rode out of the castle grounds and onto The Ground.

It was a lie. It had to be, it had to be fake, made up by the Grounders to cause chaos in Arkearth. That was the only explanation – they wouldn’t, they couldn’t execute such a great man.

“Marcus’ spies confirmed it today, Clarke.” Abby came over to Clarke, to crouch on the ground before her to brush the hair from her daughter’s stunned face. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you loved him.”

Short, shallow breaths were all Clarke could manage. They had to have it wrong. 

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke blurted out, her sorrow distorting her words as she put a hand to her mouth. “It should have been me. I was supposed to go, they wanted me-“ she couldn’t stop herself as the words came tumbling out; she couldn’t see Abby’s face as her mother’s heart broke. 

“Clarke, no.” Her mother cried softly as she pulled Clarke towards her, comforting her. Clarke sobbed into her mother’s dress, still trying to process it. “We made the decision, Clarke. Your father knew what he was doing when he took your place. It was our army’s stupid mistake, and your father didn’t want you to pay the price for it. Neither of us did.”

Clarke drew in a shaky breath, suddenly irrationally angry at the men who’d killed the Grounder that had started this. It was their fault that Arkearth was now a country without a king, and that she was now a girl without a father.

“Clarke, listen. This is just the beginning, sweetheart. We must stay strong for him, we must stay strong for our people. Do you understand?” Abby’s voice was still shaking, and her face was still wet with tears, but she had regained a composure she had spent years mastering. As she pulled back from her daughter, it was a face that filled Clarke with a sense of nauseating awe.

She didn’t feel as though she would ever be able to control this grief. How her mother could hold it together was astonishing, if not unexpected, and for a moment, Clarke was emboldened by it. Her people needed her to be strong; her father would not have wanted a snivelling, broken down girl to take his place. She would grieve, but it would be private, and it would be endless. But she would be strong.

With a shaky smile, Clarke used her mother’s outstretched hands to stand. She brushed down her skirts and wiped her knuckles beneath her eyes, drying up some of the tears that lingered. Abby tucked another strand of hair from Clarke’s face, before pulling her into another hug. 

“We’ll get through this, Clarke,” she whispered, and Clarke nodded into Abby’s shoulder. “Now, would you like to stay for some tea?” 

Clarke gave another shaky smile and a small laugh, unable to stop another few small tears from falling, as she followed her mother to the couches.

They spent the remainder of the evening reminiscing about Jake. Sometimes laughing, sometimes not, the two women bonded over shared memories of the man they both loved. Though the grief was deep within them both, for that night, and with that laughter, it was almost bearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sold on this one, but I wanted to get something out rather than sit by for months with nothing. 
> 
> As always I'm open for critiques, let me know what you think!


	9. A sombre secret

The day following the bad news, Clarke was allowed to stay in bed longer than usual. It was not quite mid-morning when she pushed herself to get out of bed, but the covers became suffocating as her mother’s words danced around her head in endless torture.

Clarke must be strong.

As a princess, since the day she was old enough to choose her own outfit, Clarke had been given a suit of armor. She wasn’t a knight or a guard or a soldier, so it wasn’t a suit of metal or leather. Her suit of armor was made from chiffon, or lace or whatever fabric she chose for that day.

As she approached the doors to the council room, Clark was a picture of sombre magnificence. 

She straightened her back when she noticed the subtle changes in seating positions of the council-members. Namely, her mother, who had occupied the seat at the head of the table where her father once sat. Where he would never sit again.

Clarke nodded a greeting and an apology for her tardiness to the council members who had stood up at the announcement of her arrival. Nobody said a word, but their faces told Clarke everything as she took her seat.

When everyone had settled, the talk resumed; the Education Advisor was discussing the plans for a new school with the Infrastructure Advisor. Clarke barely listened, instead focusing on the storm that was raging inside her. 

Try as she might, she could not stop thinking about the last time her father had sat in the chair to her right. She could hear him as he laughed with an advisor, or condemned another. Never again would she hear that voice.

The council meeting didn’t last much longer after Clarke arrived, and most of it was mundane reports from general advisors. She was glad she’d missed the announcement about her father’s death, given how she was struggling to maintain a mask of indifference without even the mention of his name.

“If that is all, I conclude this meeting.” Her mother confirmed, dismissing the council. Clarke’s eyes were focused on the table as they filed out, speaking in hushed tones and grave voices. 

Finally, Clarke, Abby and Kane remained alone in silence. 

“We’ve decided not to tell the people.” Abby said, folding her fingers as she rested them on the table in front of her. Clarke looked up, eyebrows creasing.

“Why not?” she asked indignantly. “The people deserve to know what happened to their king.”

“Because The Ground has not sent word yet, and I do not want to jeopardise the lives of Kane’s spies.”

Clarke bit back the response in her mouth.

“And if they never send word?” she asked after a moment of silence spent in thought.

“Then we will officially assume that he is dead. He feared that this may happen so he had…” Abby cut off suddenly, and placed a hand on her mouth. Clarke could see tears in her mother’s eyes, and something inside her tightened painfully at the sight of it.

“Your father had a statement written, detailing his abdication in the event that he did not return to Arkearth within six months. It was officially witnessed and sealed – he guessed something like this was going to happen, and he did not want people to question you or your mother’s legitimacy to rule the country.” Kane continued for Abby, after a long and painful look in her direction.

Clarke sat back in her chair, not sure what to say. Six months… they were half way to that point. She would have to keep up the act of hopefulness and optimism for another three months…

“And the council members know?” Clarke asked, her voice quiet.

“Yes, and they are the only ones who will know until the deadline for your father’s abdication is up. We are to appear as normal until that day, so I’d suggest that once we’re finished here you change into something less mournful.” Abby said, having regained her composure. Suddenly the dark and beautiful dress that Clarke had chosen felt heavy and stiff on her body. 

“…I understand.” Clarke said, her voice quiet. 

“Good, then we have nothing further to discuss. If you’ll excuse me.” Abby almost snapped at her daughter. Normally, Clarke would have bristled at such a comment, but she knew that this time it was because her mother was at risk of losing control, and she could not afford to do so. 

Abby left Kane and Clarke sitting at the table, the smothering silence still heavy in the air.

“Your highness, I’d like to offer my sincerest apologies.” Kane said finally. Clarke could hardly bare the depth of his tone. Kane was always a serious man, but this sobriety was immense even for him.

“Please look after her.” Clarke said, her own voice shaking. “I know she can be difficult, but she needs someone strong to be by her side. She needs you.” 

Clarke knew exactly what she was suggesting, and it felt like betrayal, but she knew that it was necessary. She didn’t want to replace her father, but she knew that Abby would need someone to rely on in the coming months.

“Of course, your highness.”

And with that final word, he stood and left the room.

Clarke sat in silence in the oversized room, with only the sound of a clock ticking for company. She stared at her father’s chair, her hands playing with the sleeves of her gown. Though externally she was quiet, internally she was having a multitude of conversations with the man who had once occupied the chair before her. Arguments, jokes, everything from the mundane to the meaningful Clarke mentally discussed with the ghost of her father. 

“…Your highness,” a deep voice called gently from the end of the hall. Clarke was so startled she stood up in surprise, her chair scraping against the floor with an ugly yelp. A feeling of embarrassment rushed over her, her cheeks flushing red as she looked to the doors.

Bellamy stood in front of the doors, his hands clasped respectfully behind him. There was an unspoken message of apology written on his face as he surveyed Clarke.

“What do you want?” Clarke asked, her own voice raspy with stifled emotion.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to say that we can reschedule today’s lesson if you’re not - “

“No,” Clarke said too quickly. She paused to gather herself. “No, I think… I think I should start as soon as possible. I’m going to lead sooner… sooner than expected, and I can’t waste another day.”

Bellamy nodded, his eyes glancing to the chair at the end of the table. 

Clarke tucked her chair back in and walked to her father’s seat. She placed a hand on the high, curved oak back, and felt a power flow through her, as though she could feel every ancestor who’d rested there. The knowledge that she was not alone, that she was just a person in a long line of people that would inhabit this space, and that they had all experienced this and survived, filled her with an unexpected strength.

She raised her eyes to meet Bellamy’s, her back straight and her face composed.

“I’ll see you after dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you fancy it, could you let know whether you prefer I update often with chapters that might be a little crappier, or whether you'd prefer to wait a few months to get a really good chapter? I just feel like these ones that I'm writing and getting out quickly aren't as good as the ones I let sit for a month, but I want to know what you guys think! So if you get a sec, let me know :)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading <3


	10. A little give, a little take

“So, you’re a little older than most people are when they start their training; kids usually start at about six or seven when they’re training to be in any kind of military position.” Bellamy said, as he flicked through the books on one of the shelves in his office. Clarke was attentive, sitting in one of the shabby couches positioned against the edge of the room. She was dressed in riding breeches and a loose shirt, the cloak she’d worn to get to the tower slung over the arm of the seat.

“And no offence, your highness, but by your age anyone pursuing a career in combat would be a little fitter than you are.”

“No way, really?” she asked sarcastically, which earnt her a withering look. She shot it right back. “Bellamy I’m a trained physician; I know about levels of fitness.”

“I’m just pointing out that if you were to start training for combat now, you’ve got a hell of a long way to go before I’d even think about letting you anywhere near a battlefield.” He remarked, turning back to the shelves. He was collecting a small pile of books in his arms, and though Clarke couldn’t see the titles, she guessed they were homework for her.

“Well thanks for the knowledge, Captain Obvious.”

Bellamy ignored the comment. Seemingly satisfied with his collection, he dumped them onto the coffee table in front of Clarke.

“Let’s get one thing straight before I start. I’m doing you a huge favour here, Princess, and when I tutor a student I expect a level of respect.” He said harshly. He crossed his arms over his chest, his entire body language conveying he was waiting for a challenge. 

Clarke didn’t exactly give him one. Instead, she smiled sweetly up at him, and leant back in her seat.

“Then by all means, please continue Mr Blake. Or do you prefer sir? Just so I know for future,” She replied, sarcasm dripping from her words. Bellamy pursed his lips, but said nothing as he sat down in an armchair opposite her.

“You can keep it to Bellamy,” he replied, deciding not to engage in an argument this early on. “So, fitness and strength. Swordplay, or any kind of combat, isn’t easy on the body in any way, shape or form. Most of the weapons we handle are heavy, so upper body strength is hugely important, but you also need the stamina to keep up with your opponent in a fight. You need to be agile so you can dodge and parry attacks, and though this isn’t exactly honorable, you need to be able to run away if you have to.”

“Thanks, I hadn’t worked any of that out.” Clarke retorted. She hated the feeling of being patronised; she had grown up watching guards train and fight. She’d treated enough torn muscles, dislocated joints and exhausted soldiers to know that a level of fitness and strength was required. What she didn’t know was the specifics of technique, something she’d been hoping to get from Bellamy.  
“Can you please tell me something that I don’t know?”

“I’m getting to it, Clarke. You need to be patient. That’s what I’m trying to tell you – it’s all good and well me teaching you form and technique, but all of that will be useless unless you are physically prepared to carry it out. And you need to be patient because even getting to that stage is going to take a while.”

“I can go running on my own, I can lift weights and build up my physique without tutelage. But I can’t learn form and technique on my own.” Clarke retorted, rolling her eyes.

Bellamy huffed out a breath, a frown painted on his freckled face. Clarke frowned right back at him – he might have been doing her a favour, but telling her what she already knew wasn’t exactly what she’d signed up for. And if they were butting heads this early on, then she really was uncertain as to whether this was the right decision.

After a couple of seconds of thundery silence, Bellamy leant forward and placed his hand on the pile of books.

“These are books that will tell you a bit about technique. There’s also history in there, as well as information on a whole range of fighting types and styles from lots of kingdoms, new and old. Because,” he shot Clarke a warning glance as she opened her mouth to protest, “just as it is important for your body to be strong, it’s important for your mind to be strong too.”

“Bellamy, I know that! And if you’re just giving me reading, then why do I need to be here spending time with you?” she snapped, exasperated. 

“Because you can’t learn everything from a book! Clarke this is day one, I’m not going to be demonstrating fades and iron guards; you need to start small and build up.”

“I might not have time for this! If The Ground are planning something, I need to be prepared for it!” Clarke exclaimed, desperation thick in her voice.

“Well you’re not going to be!” Bellamy yelled, standing up out of his chair. “Clarke, you need to accept that if it does come to a war between us and The Ground, you are not going to be on the frontline. Mastering this stuff takes years of hard work and practice, and there are always going to be opponents who have worked harder and longer than you. You need to get the idea out of your head that you’re going to be leading an army, because you’re not.”

During his speech, he’d braced his hands on the table between them and leant over the books, glaring at Clarke as he spoke. Clarke stared right back at him, anger blossoming in her own chest as she refused to back down.

“Then what’s the point in me even trying?” she snapped back, sitting forward in her chair, refusing to let Bellamy intimidate her.

“Self-defence as a bare minimum. So that if, and that’s a big if, Grounders did manage to reach you, you could at least try to defend yourself.” He replied, calming down a little bit. “It would take about ten years to learn enough to be considered qualified enough for a foot soldier, let alone a general. Hell, a captain even!”

“And how long have you been training?” Clarke snapped, raising her eyebrows. She knew Bellamy was barely older than she was, so for him to make that sort of claim to her seemed to be a little hypocritical.

“Seventeen years. And before that, I was training my body for combat since I could walk. And, obviously, I was younger than you are when I started, when I could take on new information and form new muscle memory easily.” He paused, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “You know what I’m saying makes sense, Clarke, and I understand that you want to do more.”

Clarke opened her mouth to reply, but shut it again without saying anything. He was right, it would take her a while to learn what she needed. She just felt defensive because this felt like a weakness he was exposing, a weakness she should be trying harder to fight. Training was a step towards that, but it felt like her goal was a lifetime away.

“I just want to do what’s best for my people.” She said quietly, her posture relaxing slightly. She didn’t want to admit defeat in this argument, but she knew that she’d have to compromise if she wanted Bellamy’s help. And he was her last hope in Arkearth.

“I know you do. And that’s admirable, but you have to know your limits, Clarke.” He replied, returning to his seat. “And the best way you can help your people is to go about this the right way. If you don’t and you end up hurting yourself, you’ll be harming your people more than any Grounder could.”

Clarke looked down at the pile of books instead of Bellamy. She was trying to think of a counter-argument, but really, again, she knew he was right. She’d treated enough guards in training to know that she could hurt herself before she’d even seen battle. And if she did, and it was permanent, she’d feel useless to her people. 

“Okay.” She said finally, levelling her eyes at Bellamy with a renewed fierceness.

“I’ll compromise with you. I’ll set you up a fitness programme that I can oversee in addition to these sessions. That way you can do something physical, and it never hurts to build your fitness even if you aren’t actually fighting anything.” Bellamy said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he looked at Clarke in earnest.

“There’s no way my mom can find issue with that,” Clarke agreed, a tiny blossom of hope blooming in her chest. As much as she enjoyed reading and learning, she loved to do things hands-on too. Her experience in the medical wing had taught her that.

“Good, then it’s settled. Now can we get on with my lesson please?” Bellamy asked, his usual smug grin creeping onto his face as he reached for a piece of paper he’d placed on the coffee table.

Clarke pursed her lips, but inclined her head slightly in agreement. She was prickled by the way his smug grin amplified, but said nothing as he scanned the paper.

“I’m not going to lecture you about history; you can read through that in your own time.” Bellamy began, nodding to the pile of books on the table. 

“Making presumptions about the amount of time a princess has, Captain.” Clarke said with a smug smile of her own, which earnt her a withering look.

“Maybe you could use some of the time you spend gossiping with my sister, or Lady Lilly.”

“I’m a princess, half my time is for gossiping.” Clarke sighed, picking at invisible dirt on her top. Disdain laced her voice, indicating her dislike of the more vapid elements of her profession.

“Well, regardless. If you want to take this seriously, you need to put the effort in.” Bellamy replied, the seriousness returning to his gruff voice. He waited for a second, but when Clarke said nothing, he continued.

“So, if you cover that side, I can get on with something I’m sure you’ll find more interesting,” He paused for emphasis, to which Clarke replied with a weary look, asking him to get on with it without so many words, “-weaponry.”

Clarke did perk up a little at this. Her hunger for learning overtook her wariness of Bellamy, and she found herself sitting up straighter to pay more attention. Being a medic, she’d always paid more attention to the bodies of soldiers as they’d moved, and grimaced at the lethal tools they used to do each other harm. Until this point, she’d never really considered learning to use them.

“As you’ve probably seen, there’s a huge range of weapons at the disposal of the guards. I won’t cover everything, because as I said, you’re going to be learning nothing more than self-defence. But, again, if you want to learn about the rest, you can do so in your own time.” His words earnt another steady, tepid glare from Clarke, but he chose to ignore it.

“The main two you need to be focused on are daggers and swords. The dagger especially, since it’ll be easiest for you to carry a dagger on you at all times; a sword hanging at your waist is likely to draw attention.” He added with a small smile, one which Clarke mirrored.

“Can you imagine my mother’s face if I walked into a council meeting with a sword?” she laughed, seeing her mother’s open-mouthed frown perfectly in her mind’s eye.

“Exactly. But a dagger… you can be more creative about hiding. They’re small, so you can put them in boots, hide them in cloak linings… some women even hide them in thigh holsters.” Bellamy became very interested in his paper with his final hiding place, which Clarke found surprisingly endearing. She caught herself smiling at his modesty as she toyed with the idea of keeping a dagger somewhere on her person.

“That would be a fun expense to explain to mom, though. ‘Can I have some money to buy myself a thigh holster, please?’,” she imitated telling Abby, which prompted a snort of laughter from Bellamy.

“I’ll leave that one to you, Princess.” He added, shaking his head. His smile was infectious; Clarke couldn’t keep a similar one off her face. 

“Daggers are useful for other reasons as well, obviously. If you keep them sharp, they can inflict a lot of damage with very little effort. Swords can be heavy, so you’d need to be fitter, but a child could wield a dagger.”

“I’d like to think I’m stronger than a child, Bellamy.”

“You’d be surprised.” 

“…Exactly how weak do you think I am?” Clarke asked indignantly, slightly offended that the Captain had such little expectations from her. To her annoyance, Bellamy just laughed.

“I was thinking about the kids more than you, Clarke. They’re a lot stronger than you’d think; I should know, I’ve been training them.” He replied, and Clarke softened slightly, satisfied that at least he hadn’t attempted to offend her.

“You’ve been over-seeing their training yourself?” she asked, surprised. It was clear from this lesson that he had a passion for teaching, but his arrogant attitude thus far had led her to believe he might delegate to someone else small tasks like teaching the children. It was Bellamy’s turn to be offended, and he recoiled, obviously taken aback by Clarke’s lack of understanding of his character.

“Of course. They’re going to be future guards in my ranks. Why not tailor them so when they’re of age they’re perfect for me?” he replied, as though it were the simplest idea in the world. Clarke had to admit it made sense. She shrugged.

“I just thought you’d be too busy for that sort of thing.”

“…I am, most of the time.” He admitted, his voice slightly deflated. “But I try to see them when I can.”

“You enjoy teaching them, then?” Clarke pried, intrigued by this softer side to the captain. 

“Makes a difference from trying to educate the mouthy guards you’ve got here.” He replied, his voice light as he grinned. Clarke immediately thought of Jasper, and felt a twinge of pity for his commanding officer.

“If you’re wondering, so far, you’re leaning towards mouthy guard,” Bellamy added, which earnt him a good-natured eye roll. “But anyway, my point is that a dagger is going to be your best bet.

“There’s not a lot of finesse in wielding a dagger on its own. If you’re stuck between an enemy and a wall, with just a dagger, you need to be clever, which isn’t always pretty and structured fighting. Your battle instincts will come into play here, which I will cover in another lesson, but mostly, you just need to slash. Aiming for the face, neck, and any exposed body part is your best bet to do the most effective damage.

“The mistake most people tend to make is to try to stab with a dagger. It you start trying to stab an experienced fighter with a short blade, they’re most likely going to dodge it, grab the knife and attack you back. When you slash, you give a wider range of attack, but also give yourself a bigger range of defence – wherever the knife goes, the attacker is going to try to avoid.” 

Before, when they were talking together and it wasn’t just Bellamy lecturing, Clarke had been flagging a little. It had been a long day, and it was late, and the rough start to the lesson had been a little discouraging. 

But now, listening to Bellamy talk, receiving new information – she’d been revived. She found herself leaning forward, soaking up every point Bellamy made, storing the knowledge in her brain. The more he spoke, the more she found herself wanting to practise, and at points her mind began to wonder. She considered plans to get her hands on a dagger, and where she could practise.

Her chambers were her best bet, but she didn’t want to risk damaging her upholstery, and having to explain to her mother why her curtains had been ripped across the middle. The idea of sneaking out to one of the training pens crept into her mind, but she knew it would be too risky and that she might be seen.

As Bellamy moved into the specifics of dagger wielding, such as different grips and slashing movements, Clarke’s fingers began to itch. She was the type of learner who couldn’t just read or listen to information to truly take it in, but she needed to experience it first-hand. She needed to try it, to be corrected and to practise it again and again until it was second nature. It had been the same when she began her medical training. 

Jackson had found it amusing how quickly Clarke moved from theory to practical, wanting to try out every new concept as soon as she learnt it. It had frustrated her, learning about different injuries and diseases, but not being able to practise treatments because nobody would be inflicted. The excitement she’d felt each first-time she’d had with a new injury or illness was exhilarating, if a little worrying for her patient. But she’d excelled quickly, and soon had become an asset to the medical wing.

This was her plan with these lessons. Start by learning theory, practising in secret, impressing Bellamy and then her mother, and eventually becoming a student worthy of praise and reward. She wanted, more than anything, to be useful to her people – to Clarke, this was the next step.

“I think,” Bellamy yawned, “that’s enough for tonight.” The bulk of his lesson had lasted at least an hour and a half, and though he was engaging, Clarke had to admit she felt as exhausted as Bellamy looked. But despite the tiredness, there was a new life, a new energy that she saw in the Captain that she found to be a little contagious. 

“Boo,” Clarke yawned herself, arching her back as she stretched out. “So when shall I come back for lesson 2?”

“When would you like, your highness?” Bellamy asked, a playful grin on his face. Clarke shook her head but smiled back as she lifted the pile of books from the table onto her lap. She began to flick through them, examining the titles and contents as she went.

“Tomorrow?” she asked, her voice distracted as she scanned the books. Bellamy let out a laugh, but when Clarke flicked her gaze up to him, he realised she was serious.

“It’s encouraging that you’re so eager, but I’m busy tomorrow. How about two days’ time?” he reasoned, and Clarke nodded, a little disappointed that she’d have to wait that long. At least she had plenty of reading material to keep herself busy.

“Same time?”

“If it works for you.”

“It does.” Clarke replied simply, and stood. The books were heavy, but she considered it part of her training programme.

“I’ll make sure I have that programme drawn up for you by then.” Bellamy said, as if he’d read her mind. He crossed to his door, letting out another enormous yawn as Clarke followed him.

“Well, thank you Captain Blake. I enjoyed my lesson.” Clarke said to Bellamy, smiling warmly as he opened the door for her. He bowed slightly, grinning as he let her out. 

“Until next time, Princess Griffin.”

Clarke was filled with a peculiar feeling of lightness that radiated from her chest as she walked back to her chambers, arms wrapped around the books. It was a feeling she relished, given the news that she had received the night before, and though her father was still present in her thoughts, she was grateful that she had a reason to smile. In fact, she felt slightly relieved that she’d barely thought of her father all evening. It had been a nice respite from the grief that had followed her the whole day.

That night she went to bed much later than usual, choosing instead to stay up and pour over the books she’d been given. It was difficult given the limited light, and she knew she would look a state when she arrived at the medical wing the following morning, but to Clarke, it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


	11. Up All Night

Something stopped Clarke from falling asleep at the table. She’d been dozing off during another council meeting, which had not escaped the notice of her mother, but it was Bellamy’s fault. The books he kept giving her after their lessons had been holding her attention long into the night, burning candles to the bottoms where they sit on their plates. 

“Attacks?” she said, sitting up in her chair. Twelve pairs of eyes turned to look at her. 

“…yes, your highness. By Grounder insurgents,” said the man who’d been speaking. Clarke glanced to her mother. 

“Is that not an act of war?” 

“Well, your highness, it depends on the intent. If these are simply rogue agents, aiming to cause havoc and terror, then no,” another spoke, and Clarke frowned. 

“I have contacted the Commander of the Grounders, but we’ve received no word as of yet,” Kane said quietly, looking down at where his arm rested on his chair. 

“And the Grounders who carried out the attack?” Clarke asked, her voice raised above the uncomfortable quiet of the chambers. She was embarrassed that she had not heard of attacks in the lower town, too busy fighting to stay awake to tune into the gossip and rumours in the castle. 

“All killed in the attack, your highness.” 

“Clarke, I have the matter under control,” her mother cut in, voice serious. She levelled a stifling look at her daughter, who returned it with defiance. 

“If I’m going to be queen one day, then I have to know what’s going on in the kingdom. Under our noses, even!” 

“If you weren’t busy being distracted by whatever it is that’s keeping you up all night, you might have already known,” her mother scolded, her dark eyes burning with reproach. Clarke’s cheeks burned, and though she could feel Bellamy’s gaze land on her, she didn’t look towards him. 

Instead, Clarke settled back in her chair like a sulking child. She picked at her bodice as talk continued on around her, about increased security and closer monitors on the border with the Ground. 

Once, she glanced up at Bellamy, and found his eyes at the exact moment he glanced towards her. She found herself surprised by the apology in them, promising words about her habits after the meeting. She knew already how that would go – Bellamy would tell her she needed to stop staying up, and she would argue and end up thinking about his words for the rest of the day. Thinking of him for the rest of the day. It was a familiar and oddly comforting pattern that they’d fallen into since their first lesson. 

It was a pattern which captured them both. Too often Clarke would find herself chastising Bellamy, and too often Bellamy would find himself thinking of the Princess throughout the day. 

The meeting ended before long, and Clarke strode from the council chambers, heading for her rooms. 

“Princess Clarke, hold on a second,” Bellamy’s familiar voice floated down the hallway behind her. Clenching her fists, she paused her footsteps. 

“Yes, Captain?” she replied, turning to smile at him cordially. Too many servants and courtiers were around for the pair of them to drop formality, as they had begun to do so when they were on their own. 

“We need to discuss your, ah, duties,” Bellamy replied, catching up to her. “My office?” he suggested, and Clarke accepted with a nod. She walked beside him as they headed to his office. 

Once the door was shut, Clarke slumped down into her favourite seat, ready. She knew what was coming. 

“This is getting ridiculous, Clarke,” Bellamy began, already irritated by the way Clarke rolled her eyes. 

“These Grounder attacks are just more evidence that I need to learn how to defend myself. Quickly,” she reasoned, sitting forward in the chair. 

“You’re not going to be any good in an attack if you can’t even keep your eyes open.” 

“Stop exaggerating. I’m fine, I have this under control-“ 

“Clarke, I’m not arguing. I’m stopping our lessons until you catch up on some sleep,” Bellamy cut her off, face stern as he stared at her from where he leant on the doorframe. His arms were crossed across his broad chest, and Clarke hated the way she admired them, as infuriating as he was. 

“What? You can’t,” she said, sounding more like a petulant child than she liked. 

“I can, and I am. Besides, the Festival is coming up and I need to focus on scheduling guard duties around training,” Bellamy returned pushing himself off the doorframe as he crossed to his desk. Clarke’s eyes followed him, burning with indignation. In fairness, he probably had a point about catching up on sleep. She’d completely forgotten about the Festival. 

It was an annual tradition, that began three days before Clarke’s birthday. It was three days of markets in the town, balls and dinners in the castle, ending in a final party through the city of Phoenix to celebrate the Princess’ birthday. It was another example of how her father had spoiled her. 

“The books should keep you occupied until after it’s over. And you have to stop reading them until dawn, Clarke – you need your sleep,” Bellamy continued, a note of softness entering his voice as he spoke. Clarke almost took it for concern. 

“I’m doing fine! And I’ve finished those books – some of them twice,” she replied, leaning back in the chair once again. “I want to progress our lessons. I want to be taught how to actually wield a sword.” 

Bellamy levelled her with a solid look, one that told her his answer without him having to open his mouth. 

“No, Clarke. I’m not disobeying your mother-“ 

“Books aren’t going to help me if I’m in the town and-“ 

“You have guards when you’re in town, and you don’t carry a sword anyway-“ 

“Then I’ll start practising on my own.” Clarke cut through the bickering, and silenced Bellamy with that statement. She’d been toying with it for days, trying to figure out the best time to sneak down to one of the training rings, how to get her hands on a practise sword. The plan was basically ready, now she just needed to start implementing it. 

“No, you won’t. And if you threaten to, I’ll have your guards report to me on everything you do during the day; everywhere you go, everything you do, every time you eat or sleep or-“ 

“Breathe?” 

Bellamy shot her another look. Clarke returned it defiantly. 

“You’re not my father, Bellamy, or my big brother or whatever idea you’ve got in your head that gives you this sense of protectiveness over me,” Clarke said, her voice stronger now. Bellamy just raised his eyebrows and looked down at his papers. 

“The sense of protectiveness comes from the fact that it’s my job to protect you,” he replied quietly. 

“I don’t need protecting from myself. I’m only going to be swinging around a wooden sword in a practise ring, not going out to hunt down Grounders.” 

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, Clarke waiting for Bellamy to admit she was right. Waiting for him to agree to train her. 

“My answer is no, Clarke. And don’t try it, because I’ll know,” he replied finally, not looking up from his papers. Clarke sighed in exasperation, pushing herself from her chair. 

“You think you’ll know, but there’s a lot you don’t know about this castle, and a lot you don’t know about me. I’m going to start training, and if you want to join me, you’re welcome to,” Clarke said with a degree of finality, as she strode for the door. She ignored the scoff she received in response as she opened it. 

“We’ll see, Princess.” Bellamy’s words floated after her as she stalked into the corridor, heading to her chambers. He would see. She would start her training by herself, and he wouldn’t know. If he didn’t want to teach her then fine, that was his choice. But it was her choice to continue, and continue she would. 

* 

The following night, Clarke was ready. She was dressed in tight but supple clothing she could move in, a long midnight-blue cloak for stealth purposes, and a dulled longsword was strapped to her hip. She smirked at herself in the mirror, the exhilaration of breaking the rules lighting a fire within her chest. 

As she checked over her sword one more time, she turned to a tapestry on the wall. 

It was huge, and depicted a woodland scene in earthy greens and browns, strewn with the occasional strand of gold and silver thread to bring it to life. She loved the tapestry for its design, but also for what it concealed. 

Behind the mass of fabric was a door, small and wooden, that led into a series of passages that ran around the castle. It was a royal secret: when the castle had been built, its designer had built in the passages to allow the royal family to escape undetected should the castle come under siege. They were documented nowhere, on no map or blueprint of the castle, and no-one but the royal family and a few select servants knew about them. 

When she was younger, Clarke had spent a great deal of time exploring the passages, after her father had revealed them to her. There was nowhere she couldn’t access, she had learned, taking midnight escapades to the kitchens and library for snacks and entertainment. 

Now, they would come in handy for her to get to the training grounds without her guards knowing she’d left the sanctuary of her room. She smirked again at what Bellamy had said. He wouldn’t have a clue. 

She slipped through the door now, and made her way to the door which lead out into the main training grounds. The sun had set, and no-one would be training there now; all she had to worry about were patrols, but she’d already memorised those patterns. No-one would know she was there. 

It took her just over ten minutes to navigate the winding passage ways until she reached her destination. She pressed a button in the wall, and a door swung open, the door shaped to fit in with the pattern of bricks on the outside. A concealed entrance. 

A quick scan of her surroundings told her she’s estimated correctly, and the guard patrol had just passed this area. She had a couple of hours to practise before anyone came back this way. 

She was carrying a torch with her, which she set in the nearest sconce to the training dummies, so she could still see. She’d contemplated not bringing it, and practising in the dark in case the light attracted attention, but the training ring she’d picked wasn’t in sight of any windows, so she guessed she’d be okay. 

The sword slid from its sheath with a metallic sound that sent shivers down Clarke’s spine. This was it. This is what she’d been waiting for. She breathed deeply, holding the sword with two hands as if it was twice the size, staring down her chosen dummy. She corrected her stance according to what she’d learned, and practised a swing. 

It was exciting, and kind of fun practising like this, in the dead of night and with no-one around, going against both her mother’s and Bellamy’s orders. She practised swings, swipes and parries, trying to concentrate on correct form and footwork as she moved through each sequence. 

It was a bit like a dance, she realised. The more fluid she became with her body, the more hits she connected quickly, and with power. As time went on, she began to wish someone was there to make sure she was doing it right, that she was holding the sword properly and was using her balance like she should be. She wished she’d been allowed to learn this from the start, instead of fumbling around in the dark with very little experience to help her. 

Her wish came true, she realised with a jolt, as she heard voices drifting in the distance. She froze mid swing, looking up at the sky to check the time. The guard patrol wasn’t due, so why was someone out this late? Taking a deep breath, she sheathed her sword, grabbed her cloak from where she’d thrown it over another dummy, and dashed off to the door. 

It was only when she had her hand pressed to the external button that she realised she’d left her torch burning in the sconce. She winced, knowing it was too late to go back and get it. 

“Who’s there?” The voice made Clarke jump, until she realised it was Bellamy’s, and then she bristled. Of course it would be him. Of course the fates would be laughing at her, making her regret her arrogance. Why did it have to be him? 

“You left your torch,” he called again, and Clarke pressed the button. He didn’t have to know if was her there; maybe another guard had forgotten to take it with him when he finished for the day. Cursing herself, and fate and whatever other forces were at work, she pulled the door shut behind her and began making her way up to her chambers. 

Once she was back inside her room, secret door concealed behind tapestry once again, she allowed herself a small smile. She’d done it. She’d made a start, at least, and she’d learnt what it felt like to wield a blade. It was better than what she had known that morning, and at least now she could be more prepared in case of an attack. 

Quickly, she changed clothes and stashed the sword and cloak inside a secret compartment at the back of her wardrobe. She folded the pants and shirt back up, as if she hadn’t worn them, and put them away, flinging herself onto her bed with one of her books in case Bellamy came looking to see if she was still there. 

To her almost disappointment, she didn’t see him until breakfast the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you have a lovely holiday period! Hopefully I'll get this finished and onto the next one in 2018!


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